


Koi Fish

by PlayingChello



Series: Roleplays with Harley [7]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Accidental Pregnancy, Alcohol, Blood, Cheating, F/M, Fem!Nero, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Sex Addiction, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence, rape mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2020-05-30 20:15:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19410592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlayingChello/pseuds/PlayingChello
Summary: A roleplay that Harley and I wrote. They wrote Vergil and Dante, I Nero."Even her tears, he's found, are beautiful."





	Koi Fish

**Author's Note:**

> Original notes: In which Harley and I use cheating as a plot device and then make it better. But please pay attention to the tags if you've got triggers. Most of this is really unhealthy relationship.
> 
> Updated notes: So in a weird series of events, this piece ended up deleted so now I'm reposting it. I'm sad the original is gone, but at least I still have the work itself.

Vergil has never felt himself a petty man.

He is not petty. He is not jealous. Those emotions are for children-- As an adult, or at least a man nearing adulthood, he's found that it will only bring trouble and disappointment.

Until he met _her_.

Dante, his brother, has met a girl. Which isn't a surprise; Vergil knows of his sex addiction. At first, he would make himself scarce and leave them be, but as the weeks went on and that girl stayed, he... Began to listen.

Vergil listens from the sidelines. In the kitchen while he whispered to her, made her laugh that bell-like laugh, made her smile. He finds that her name is Nero-- Vergil knows this name from his studies on Egyptian rulers. He finds it fitting-- The way she walks isn't meek, but commanding, the way she speaks isn't soft, but demanding the attention of anyone in the room.

So when Dante is the cause of her tears, Vergil wants to fucking kill him.

It's late. Dante just left for another party somewhere downtown, with nothing more than his wallet, his keys, and a fake I.D. Vergil rests in the kitchen with a mug brimmed with tea between his palms, listening. 

Even her tears, he's found, are beautiful.

\--

Nero has no tolerance for men.

Or rather, boys, at her age. They always try to get in her pants then leave her be and she just doesn’t need that. She gets enough shit at home, she doesn’t need it in relationships too.

For a while, she thought maybe she was a lesbian. Her best friend, Kyrie, is. And they kissed once, held hands a couple times. But it didn’t feel right. Neither of them thought it was, so they just returned to being friends.

Still, Nero had no patience for men.

At least, until a white haired boy with bright blue eyes, a devilish smirk, and more persistence than anyone had any right to. She never meant to get close to him, let him under her skin. But somewhere along the way, she fell for him.

She fell for a wild, crazy, drunk teenager named Dante.

But when he started disappearing for hours, completely unreachable, Nero began to worry. When he’d come back at three in the morning and send a text, ‘sorry fell asleep,’ Nero got scared. And when she figured out that he had a problem, an _addiction_ , she began to cry.

He’d leave her at his house, all the time. Just, take off and go to some party she told him she didn’t want to go to. She would beg for him to stay with her. She’d offer herself. But she isn’t enough. Clearly. Because he still left.

So she stays in his room, lays in his bed, breathes in his scent, buries her face in his pillow.

And she cries.

\--

Vergil hears the door to Dante's room shut, and with a sigh through his nose, he pushes off the counter. His steps are soft, and he waits by her door, contemplating his next move.

His hands, for once, are unsteady. 

So he knocks thrice, entering slowly, eyes focused on her shaking form. Nero is a mess, her tears staining the pillows as well as her face, and something within Vergil shifts uncomfortably. 

"Nero," he begins, "I've got tea, if you so desire. Chamomile." 

It's the least he can do, he believes. Vergil can't stand to listen to her cry, can't stand to hear her grieve for someone who won't and can't love her how she deserves to be loved. "You know," he begins, "He'll be home in the morning."

\--

The knocks startle Nero and make her shoot up, wiping messily at her tearstained face. She’d honestly forgotten Vergil was there. He’s so quiet, so in the background, Nero hardly notices him. She’s barely spared him more than a glance. Enough to register the more serious twin, the way his eyes are much colder, despite being the same colour as Dante’s.

He stands in the doorway, looking a little odd, offering her tea. She sniffles, not sure if she can trust her voice. Instead, she nods slightly. Chamomile is supposed to be calming. Maybe it would help slow her breathing and dry her tears, at least a little.

His reassurances aren’t much. She knows he’ll be back. Knows he’ll crawl into bed, whether she’s there or not, sleep for a few hours. And if she is there when he gets up, They’ll sleep together and everything will be ok.

Except it won’t.

But Nero isn’t ready to give up. She really has fallen for this guy. The first person she’s let herself get this close to. She knows he’ll come back to her, even if she’s not enough for him.

“I- I know.” She wipes at her eyes one more time and stands to follow after Vergil, get some tea, and try not to think about where Dante is and what he’s doing.

\--

Vergil knows his words aren't enough.

Which is alright, he supposes. From what he understands, Nero is very, very stubborn. Not unlike Dante. He sips at his own tea and leads her back to the kitchen, setting the mug down to go through the cabinets. "My brother has a very large oblivious streak," he says, "I'm sorry it's you it’s gravitated toward."

Vergil refills the kettle and sets it on the stove to boil, turning towards Nero to study her. 

She really is lovely.

"I'm sorry he also can't seem to keep his hands to himself," Vergil continues, carefully. "It's not your fault."

\--

Vergil is being very kind.

This is probably the first time he’s said more than a handful of words to her since she started frequenting their home. But Dante’s always made it seem like he’s a hard, cold, even mean person. But so far, she has no reason to think that. Not as he starts brewing her tea and apologises for his brother.

The way Vergil watches her reminds her of a hawk. Cold, calculating, like it’s evaluating its next meal. It sends an odd shiver down her back and she instinctively wraps her arms around herself.

But not her fault? She can only believe that so much. Can only believe that it’s not her fault he can’t be happy with her, that she’s not enough, for so long. She has to not be working hard enough, not giving him enough, if he’s still so inclined to find other sources of pleasure.

“Sure,” she mutters, a little bit of bite to accompany it. She’s bitter, and she sounds it, but she doesn’t care.

\--

Vergil cocks an eyebrow at her tone, but says nothing. He understands why she has that bite, why she has that bitterness-- It's obvious. Nero's heart is broken.

"It's true. Dante has intimacy issues - an addiction, if you will. It's no ones fault but his own." 

Vergil pours water into another mug once the kettle begins to whistle, setting in a teabag and setting it by Nero.

His next move is to return to his previous place against the counter, mug in one hand and arm folded below his elbow as he again sips at his tea. 

"If sleeping in Dante's room is too much for you, you may have mine. I won't let you sleep on the couch, that's rude."

\--

Nero reaches a hand out toward the mug as she listens to Vergil tell her what she already knows, letting the steam rise up to her face as the teabag brews, breathing in the scent of chamomile. It’s almost effective at calming her down, almost enough to slow her quickly beating heart. Almost lets her think of something other than Dante.

“I-” she stares into Vergil’s face, captured by that same calculating gaze. “I couldn’t. I’ll be fine.” But even as she says it, she knows it’s not true. Can feel her eyes glass over with more tears as she thinks about sleeping in his bed.

She can tell Vergil knows. Knows he can see her starting to get choked up again. So she hides behind the mug, finally taking a tiny sip, too hot for much more. But when she sets the mug down again and he’s still staring at her, she continues, “I can’t put you out of your bed, it’s not fair to you.”

\--

"There are many things in this world that are unfair," Vergil says, "And I believe you know that even now as we're speaking."

Vergil closes his eyes, head tilting downward, resting. "Besides. With me on the couch, Dante might actually stumble into his own room instead of lazing around."

Vergil looks to Nero, sets his tea down and carefully pads over, looking down at his brother's girlfriend carefully. He takes her in-- Her skin, her eyes, the way she shakes with unshed tears. "Nero," he breathes, "Why do you keep letting him hurt you so?"

\--

The air feels thick and cold at the same time and Nero doesn’t know whether to feel comforted or very very uncomfortable. So, instead, she just floats in this limbo between the two. Taking occasional sips of tea and listening to Vergil make his case.

She doesn’t understand, really, why Dante dislikes his brother so much. Or seems to, at least. Maybe because he seems to actually hold him accountable. Maybe because he’s right.

Nero draws a short breath when Vergil comes closer. She’s still not accustomed to the way he studies her, like she’s something worth studying, she supposes. But the question makes her look away, stare down at her tea in front of her.

“I’m fine. It’s fine. I-” She looks up, and again finds herself staring into his eyes, “I love him.”

\--

Vergil inhales, and he steps back.

He set himself up for hurt. He set himself up for disappointment-- Why did he think Nero would say anything else? She's too honest. Vergil didn't want to hear that, but what else he had expected is... Unknown to him. So he takes his tea up once more before "Ah."

Vergil is so, so tired.

Tired of seeing Nero go home crying, tired of seeing her angry or upset with Dante. Tired of seeing her look like a fucked out disaster at all hours of the day because Dante doesn't know when to quit, doesn't know when to let that lovely little thing breathe. He doesn't deserve Nero, he never did and now that idiot boy's selfishness is--

"Truthfully," Vergil says, "I expected that. Even so, you should... Leave him. He's only going to hurt you worse and worse, if you let him."

Vergil pushes away from the counter. "I'll need to get things from my room so I don't disturb you in the morning."

\--

Nero can’t help but feel she’s said something wrong when Vergil backs away from her. She feels like she’s lost something, fucked something up without knowing what. But when he advises her to leave Dante?

That pisses her off.

“It’s none of your business what I do with my life or my relationships. I’m _fine_. My relationship is not up for _discussion_. I don’t need your opinion.”

She lets him go, when he goes to get whatever he needs. Debates telling him to shove it and just sleep in Dante’s room again, but she knows she can’t handle that. She can’t even manage to go there now. She just stays put, sitting at the kitchen counter, sipping at tea that’s gone lukewarm.

Eventually she leaves the cup behind and moves to the living room, curls up on the couch, and turns on the TV.

\--

"If 'fine' constitutes shame and constant sobbing, then yes, you're right. I can tell that you're fine when you can't even take in his _scent_ without crying."

And that's all Vergil has to say on the matter. Fine. Have it your way.

So he grabs what he'll need and places it all in the downstairs bathroom in a neat pile beside the sink, leaving it there until morning. He didn't-- Vergil had no desire to offend Nero, he just...

Wants her to find true happiness. She's earned that much.

"Let me know if you need anything," Vergil _still_ offers, heading back to his room. "Tell me when you're ready to go to bed. I'll move."

\--

It’s probably another hour or two before she knocks gently at the door and says she’s ready for bed. Just as he’d promised, Vergil leaves, goes out to the couch, and lets her have his room. She feels odd, being in here. It’s so different from Dante’s room. It’s clean, nearly obsessively so. And it smells different.

But she supposes that is the point.

Everything is neat and she feels almost invasive just to pull back the blankets on the bed so she can lie down. But she does, and the bed is warm and it doesn’t smell or feel like Dante, and she can sleep. It’s funny, how different two people who shared a womb, share chromosomes, can be.

A couple weeks pass like this. Every night that Nero spends at the brothers’ house, Dante disappears and Vergil lets her sleep in his room. It keeps her from crying too much. The first couple times, Dante got upset, wondered why she was in his brother’s room. But with Vergil on the couch, he got over it pretty quickly.

In the meantime, Nero spends more and more time with Vergil. He keeps her company when Dante goes, keeps her from thinking about him too much. He keeps her sane and she finds some sort of peace in his presence. It becomes a comfortable familiarity. She lets him be her best friend, someone she can go to.

It’s nice.

\--

Vergil didn't realize it was possible to fall so hard for one woman.

Vergil doesn't want to be this way. Doesn't want to love her as much as he does, care for her as much as he is. He doesn't want to put himself in a situation that will not only disappoint him, but Nero, too. Vergil has never been someone's lover, someone's other half-- He doesn't know what that means or what it requires.

Vergil just knows that Nero is the reason the sun bothers to rise. And he can't hold that back from her any longer. 

It's very late. Dante is gone, to no one's surprise, and Vergil finds himself alone on the couch with Nero. His eyes are stuck to her frame, her curves, her edges. He wants to kiss at every inch of her skin, tell her just what he thinks of her and make her gasp while his fingers dance over--

"You can lay on me, if you'd like. You seem tired."

\--

Nero looks over when Vergil speak and smiles. It’s nice to hear the concern in his voice. There’s something else, too, she thinks, but it could just be his own tiredness. “Thanks.”

She shifts and adjusts so that she can lay on her back across the length of the couch, placing her head lightly in Vergil’s lap. He’s warm and comfortable and she likes the sense of intimacy.

It’s quiet and Nero closes her eyes for a bit, enjoying the peace. “This is nice.” She cracks one eye open and looks up at Vergil, “Your lap is comfortable.”

Her eye slides shut again as she squirms slightly, then relaxes again, trying to hide her slight blush. In another effort to dispel any awkwardness she may have caused, she speaks again, “What kind of music do you listen to?”

\--

"You needn't force conversation."

Vergil's words aren't reprimanding, but instead, rather quiet. He wants her to talk freely, say things to say them instead of trying to drown out something else. Vergil cards his fingers once through her hair, moving it away from her face gently. His hand returns back to it's previous position as a safety measure-- Vergil doesn't know if he's just crossed any lines.

He stays this way. Doesn't stare at Nero, but finds it hard to tear his eyes away from her. He can only begin to imagine the feeling of Nero's lips pressed softly against his own, the way her hands might shake with anxiety. How he'd hush her gently, pin her down and beg her _please_ \--

Agh.

Regardless, he nearly smiles at how red Nero's face has become. She's clearly flustered, so Vergil decides to ease her worries with a light, "For the record, I very much enjoy Weezer."

\--

Nero can’t help the little content smile when Vergil’s fingers run through her hair. It’s a lovely feeling. But he doesn’t continue.

“Wait, don’t stop? Feels nice.”

She’s surprised at his answer to her question. Doesn’t really expect the man to enjoy Weezer. She opens one eye again with a raised brow to demonstrate her confusion, “Really now? Full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Her eyes close once more and she makes a tiny sound on a particularly heavy exhale, relaxing further and letting her body and mind drift. She’s pretty sure she could fall asleep like this, safe and warm and comfortable. Cared for.

\--

Vergil listens to his request, and keeps carding his finger through her coarse hair gently. Her eyes close and he knows she's comfortable-- Content. His fingers continue, massaging her scalp as he goes, eventually becoming less timid.

If he kissed her now, he could truly die happy.

But he can't. Vergil knows he can't, especially when some kind of weak attempt at her name audibly exits his throat to get her attention. He tries to say something, anything to fill the silence, he can't keep staring so he just--

"I..."

Fuck.

\--

Nero loses herself in the way Vergil’s fingers feel in her hair. In the soft sighs she lets out every so often. She probably drifts off a couple times, so comfortable and relaxed.

It almost makes her sad. It’s moments like these she wishes she could have with Dante. Don’t get her wrong, they’re plenty intimate. But not in this simple, easy way. They’re always wild, rough, crazy, and loud. Never slow and gentle and quiet. Never like this.

She barely hears Vergil’s voice. More like she feels it where her head is lent into his abdomen.

An eye opens sleepily, and she glances up, “What’s that?”

\--

Vergil kisses her.

It's impulsive and stupid, he knows, but he can't help it. It's unfair to make her choose, unfair to make Nero feel torn but he couldn't keep away. His lips press against hers just barely, and his stomach churns.

Her lips are softer than he thought they might be.

Vergil pulls away, and inhales. "I'm sorry," he breathes, "You don't need that from me, you don't-- You shouldn't--"

\--

It's so gentle, when it happens. So gentle, she barely feels it. Barely gets to experience the feeling of his lips against hers before he's pulling away and stammering apologies. And she's just frozen.

She looks up, eyes wide and mind awake fully now. But she doesn't move. Doesn't pull him back down, doesn't lean up to meet him again, much as she wants to.

But she doesn't move away either. She doesn't sit up and run away, doesn't try to find some way to connect herself back to Dante.

Dante. Her boyfriend. The one she's cheating on now. With his brother. 

Not that he's not doing much worse wherever he is right now.

"I- Don't say sorry unless you really didn't mean it."

\--

"I--" Vergil begins, closing his mouth and clenching his jaw, "Dante and I are two very different people, Nero."

Vergil carefully nudges Nero off of his lap and stands, running both hands through his hair. She wasn't ever supposed to-- He wanted to--

"I... I'm only sorry for what I've likely just put on your shoulders."

\--

Nero lets herself be moved, lets Vergil get up. He looks...conflicted. And that does something to her. Makes her heart ache.

When he apologises again, not for kissing her, but for what it may have done to her, she sighs. It’s halfway relieved and halfway resigned. She stands slowly, approaches him, but not close enough to touch.

“It takes two,” she murmurs, eyes darting over his face and to her wringing hands.

She has a friend in Vergil, a connection. But she can’t deny that kissing him hadn’t been something she’d thought about. Hadn’t been even better than what she’d imagined, brief as it was. As her eyes search, they settle on his lips for just a moment too long as she recalls how it felt. How much she wanted to do it again.

When she takes another step forward and leans up, on her toes, she doesn’t even think the name Dante.

\--

When Vergil finds Nero's lips on his own, he swears he nearly whimpers.

Nero's lips are soft, a little clumsy but so endearing, eager and willing to learn. She's inviting, and Vergil finds himself fighting a losing battle to the taste of her chapstick and the feel of her skin beneath his hands. They rest now on the sides of her neck, keeping her close as his thumbs brush along her jaw as carefully as he can manage.

Vergil tries not to let his hands wander, keeps them still. He doesn't _lust_ for her, he just wants Nero and all that she is under his hands where she'll be _safe_ , and free from the pain his brother continuously causes. Vergil wants to show Nero her worth, wants to tell her between moans and cries and oh please, _Vergil_ \--

"You're beautiful."

It's between kisses, between breaths. Vergil can't help but to pull her closer, duck away and cover her neck in kisses, before stopping, regaining control and resting his forehead to Nero's.

"Apologies."

\--

Nero isn't sure what to do with her hands. She settles on resting them lightly in Vergil's hips, almost afraid to touch him. He kisses her with such gentleness and care, like she's a fragile thing. Her lips are turning into a little smile before she realises.

She's breathy, into the kisses. And when he tells her she's beautiful, she whimpers slightly. Sure, she's been told that before. But it's hard to believe it coming from a man who leaves her alone more often than not to find his thrills elsewhere. 

She whines again when he starts kissing her neck. Her pulse quickens and her fingers tighten on his hips. She mourns the loss when he stops to rest his forehead against hers intimately. 

"What did I say about apologies?" she whispers through a tiny smile.

\--

"I believe," Vergil begins, quietly, "It was something about meaning it if I'm going to say it." 

Vergil can barely think. He can barely focus on anything that isn't Nero, can't tear his eyes away from hers, can't do anything that doesn't somehow circle back to those pretty blues and soft lips and short hair. She's intoxicating, the way she moves and the way she smells, the feel of her fingers leaves him absolutely dizzy and begging, pleading for her to grace him with her touch just _once_ more.

"Nero," he whispers, "Let me help you. Take it out on me."

\--

There's something magnetic about him. Something that draws her in and won't let her go. And looking into his eyes, he's still cold, hard, unyielding. But they're deep, too. Soft somewhere. Caring, gentle. 

She thinks back to when he told her that he and Dante are two very different people. He's right. Dante is passion and explosion but he's oblivious and tends to hurt even if unintentional. But Vergil. He's the kind of person you won't notice unless he wants you to. And if he wants you to, then there may as well be no one else in the world. He clearly knows how to manipulate a situation to his advantage. 

But he can also read people. Can understand what they want and what they need. And he can be that. It's obvious in the way he holds Nero with care, tries to hold back, looks at her with concern. 

She breathes out, "That's right. I'm not sorry."

Nero's mind wanders back to Dante. She loves him, she truly does. But he's not _here_. And she may not be enough to fill his insatiability, but what if he isn't enough for her? What if she needs more? Quiet intimacy and calm moments, someone to just hold her and treat her _right_. 

What if Vergil is what she needs? 

Her eyes search his at his request before she presses herself flush against him, hip to chest. She gave into this the moment she laid on his lap. Maybe even the moment she slept in his bed. He lets her feel not so dead inside every time Dante leaves with a kiss to her lips and a hand down her shorts. 

She nuzzles her face into his chest, "Will you stay with me tonight?"

\--

Vergil can't say no when she asks so sweetly.

Her request is completely inappropriate. It's just a step below cheating-- Fuck, they've already crossed that line. Vergil can't bring himself to _care_ , not when her body is so warm against his own and she asks him like it's the only thing she's ever truly wanted. He holds Nero close, holds her tightly with a hand on the back of her head and one on her upper back.

"I would be honored."

His lips press softly to her hair, nuzzling trying to be _gentle_ because that's what she's earned. Love. Softness. Vergil has never hated his brother more than he has now; Leaving this darling, _darling_ little dove to her worries and own devices is a crime within itself.

But he broke her _heart_. 

So Vergil kisses her once more, though briefly. "I will stay with you until you grow tired of me."

\--

She can’t stop comparing him to Dante. It’s not fair and it will probably break her one day. But she can’t help it. They’re so similar, but so different. When she closes her eyes, she can nearly pretend that it’s Dante holding her like this, giving her the love that she so craves. Can almost pretend it’s his lips pressing into her hair, his hands pressing into her.

A tear falls before she can stop it, but she manages to hold back any more. She just feels so _safe_ here. Vergil is taking care of her so perfectly, talks to her softly and understands her needs. It’s what she wants.

So when he agrees with her request, she pulls away enough to smile at him then more to lead him to his room. A room she’s grown very familiar with and comfortable in. A safe haven from demons down the hall, in Dante’s room. It doesn’t smell like sex and alcohol. It smells kind of like what she imagines home would smell like, if she’d had much of one to compare it to.

“Thank you,” she says as she climbs into the bed and buries herself into the blankets.

\--

"You're very welcome," Vergil says, sitting on his bed beside her, petting her hair with as much kindness as he can manage. 

Vergil has never had to be kind, or soft. Never had to be caring or sweet-- Only the backbone for his and Dante's home. He only knows how to reprimand, how to discipline. Compliments don't come to mind easily.

But it's _Nero_.

"I'm not exactly an expert when it comes to holding people," Vergil sighs, "But if that's what you'd like, I can."

\--

Nero shifts so she can look at him, “Please.”

She moves over to make room for him and when he lays down she curls up into him. She’s surrounded by his rich scent and she just feels so secure, so warm and safe there. So cared for. She finds her finger tracing patterns softly on his chest.

“Yeah, your cuddling skills could use some polishing, but I’m sure it’s nothing a little practice won’t solve,” she grins cheekily even though she doesn’t look up at him. She’s sure he can hear it in her jest anyway.

She lets a few moments pass like that, her finger moving almost of its own accord, breathing softly against his shirt. Quiet. Then, she turns her head so she can kiss him again. It’s exactly like the first several times, soft, gentle, everything she wants.

She nuzzles back into him and lets herself drift.

\--

The morning brings one of the most beautiful sights Vergil has ever seen.

He doesn't remember falling asleep, and he certainly doesn't remember spooning her and putting a hand just under her breast. So he moves as though he's touched fire, afraid of violating her privacy and personal space boundaries and--

Oh.

The sun filters in through the curtains of Vergil's room, putting a bright shine on most of his belongings, as well as illuminating Nero. Her hair shines nearly golden in the morning sun, and skin made even more pale by it, too. She reminds Vergil of an old painting he once read about; Something Victorian.

Though now, Vergil believes her biblical.

\--

Nero wakes slowly.

She doesn’t think very hard, and doesn’t open her eyes. Sun’s too bright, doesn’t want to face that quite yet. So instead, she snuggles back into the solid form behind her and sighs heavily.

Her head turns, “Dante?”

As soon as the name is out of her lips she realises that it’s wrong. The night before slams back into her and she remembers quiet kisses and gentle holds.

Vergil.

Her eyes pop open the moment she turns enough that they aren’t in direct sunlight anymore. “I’m-” Her eyes are wide and she’s glad she can’t quite see beyond the sleep still clinging to her lashes because she’s worried what she’d find in those eyes.

Maybe he didn’t hear her.

She sits up, rubbing furiously at her eyes and trying to think what she should do. Dante could come back any time and if he were to find them together like this… They didn’t do anything more than kiss. But Dante won’t see it that way.

She glances over to Vergil again, sheepish this time, “Is he back yet?”

\--

Vergil feels something twist when Nero's first thoughts are of his brother. His stomach wrenches, and he has to try not to suck in a breath. But when Nero seems startled, it makes Vergil think that maybe... It was only reflex. 

"He shouldn't be for awhile," he replies quietly, "He didn't show early. He might be gone for a while longer."

Vergil reaches out to push Nero's hair away from her eyes, almost mussing it worse than it had been. "Just relax. Lay here with me awhile longer."

\--

This time she turns her whole body to look at him. God. It’s incredible that they can be identical, but look so different. The sunlight illuminates Vergil, laying in the bed. And he does look like his brother, hair mussed from sleep, yet there’s something distinctly different.

She nods absently, glancing around the room. She can feel her pulse still racing from thinking Dante would catch them. And yet, she still agrees to stay longer, tempt the fate of whatever it is they’re doing.

It takes her a moment, but she lays back down. Curls into a ball, small as she can, and presses her back against him again. She almost lets him do as he will, but to save both of them from further awkwardness about what exactly the rules for this are, she reaches behind her, finds his wrist, and pulls it around her, hugs it to her chest.

“He won’t be happy if he finds us like this.”

\--

She accepts, and Vergil swears he could fly.

His hand curls softly around Nero's neck; Not possessively, but instead, almost protectively. "I know," he breathes against her shoulder, "But you deserve a rest without worry."

So Vergil keeps her close, hand loose around her throat and lips to the back of her head. He's almost unsettled by just how much he can feel-- He can tell Nero isn't wearing a bra, and it makes him almost nervous. Not that he'd admit it - oh no. But even still, it's unsettling and something else that's just-- 

"You wanted me to stay with you. Now it's my turn to be selfish."

\--

Nero sighs when his fingers curl around her neck. It makes her feel safe and protected, to give him this power to hurt her, kill her if he were so determined, but know he won’t.

She can feel his pulse, both from his chest against her back and from where her hand is still holding his wrist. It’s a bit high, but his breathing is normal. The gentle way his chest rises with each breath calms her own breathing, her own racing heart, until it’s nearly back to normal. Nearly relaxed enough to fall asleep again.

Until he speaks.

She cranes her neck to look at him with a ‘hmmm?’ There are so many thing swimming in his face, so many emotions. There’s pleading, desperation, care, concern, but also something dangerous, feral, _needy_.

Lust.

She swallows hard, “What did you have in mind?”

\--

Vergil can't answer her immediately.

He doesn't know how. He doesn't know what to say to Nero, where to begin. Vergil wants to tell her that he just means holding her and nothing more, that he only wants to stay with her another hour longer. The problem within that, however, is that he knows his eyes betray him. He knows Nero can see past any emotion to detect lust; She's got to do it often with Dante, Vergil is sure. So he doesn't try to disguise it.

Instead, he tries to embrace it.

"Let me touch you," Vergil nearly begs, voice coming out _far_ more desperate than he'd intended. What about her makes him this way? Nero makes his mind foggy and his judgement poor-- This is a very dangerous game they're playing. "I'll be... Careful. I just want you to forget your worries."

\--

Carefully, she rolls onto her back, never letting go of his wrist, never letting his hand move from her neck. It’s much easier, from here, to look at him.

This is a line she can’t go back on. But she’s already crossed so many in the last few hours. What’s one more at this point? And it’s not like it’s a line Dante himself hasn’t crossed. Several times over. And Vergil sounds so desperate for it, like it’s the only thing in the world he wants at this moment.

Then, slowly, Nero drags his hand down, stops when it lays over her breast. Then she cranes her neck to kiss him softly, deeply. She smirks when she pulls back, “I won’t break.” One of her hands flattens on his chest, feels the hard muscles there, moves up to his neck. She pulls him in for another kiss. “Please.”

\--

Vergil wants to recoil, wants to pull back and tell her that maybe this isn't the best idea after all. But when she's guiding his hand, he feels his heartbeat quicken with anxiety and his stomach jump to his throat.

And when she kisses him, he loses any remaining control.

Vergil brushes his thumb across her nipple through the fabric of her shirt, moving to bridge himself over her as slowly as he can manage. "Nero," he mumbles, "Tell me when you've had enough, lovely."

Vergil's hands slide under her shirt, and he does everything he can to stay _quiet_. He doesn't want to tell her how long he's waited, or how many nights he's dreamt of exactly this-- His palms flattening against her bare stomach and sliding up, taking her shirt with. He's nervous, yes - even with both hands on her breasts lightly pinching her nipples with a knee between her pale thighs, he is most definitely afraid.

\--

The way he calls her lovely. The way he moves so slowly, so carefully. It sends thrills up her spine and goose pimples over her skin. He treats her like this is the first time she's ever been touched. And in some ways, it is. 

Dante had been careful the first several times they were together. But it didn't last long and he never went back to it. Never harsh, but definitely rough. Definitely with a purpose. Always an end game. Vergil doesn't feel like he has an end game, just that he's in this moment with her. 

His hands are smooth, not rough, not marred by uneven calluses. They make her pliant and yielding. She wants to know how the rest of him feels. 

So she does. 

Her hands pull gently at his shirt, push it up far as it can go without moving his arms. She lets her fingers dance lightly over the dips and valleys of his abdomen. Curls her fingers so her nails are all that touch him, running lightly up his whole front, watching for his reaction.

She's learned how to read a man in this way. See what he enjoys, what gets him built up faster, and what drags it out for ages. She knows how to touch, and where. How to draw sounds of pleasure.

But she wants to take her time with Vergil. Find out every weakness, every little shift that will drive him mad. He’s supposed to just be making her forget, implied that this would be the only time. But she’s sure they both know that won’t be the case. Not with how all of this has gone so far. Not with how he looks at her.

\--

The first thing that takes Vergil by surprise is how pliant Nero becomes under his hands.

He loves it. He loves how she squirms, how she moves to touch him, too. Vergil loves that she's not just doing this for him, that she's participating and that she's just so _beautiful_ splayed out and bared all for him and--

"Ah," Vergil hisses, exhaling a shaky breath as Nero teases at his chest, drawing senseless patterns with those nails of hers. He discards his shirt (although displeased with it being on the floor), and kisses Nero once more, pressing his knee teasingly between her thighs.

"I've heard," Vergil whispers, "That I've great skill with my tongue. Is that something you'd like me to do for you?" 

His question is genuine. Vergil is trying to gauge her likes and dislikes; He wants to unravel her slowly, make her come with nothing but the thought of him on her mind and the syllables of his name on her pretty lips. So he keeps eye contact, still softly grinding his knee against her, awaiting her reply.

\--

The way he sounds is beautiful. He reacts to everything she does, every sound she makes. It’s lovely, how responsive he is. How responsive he makes her.

And he looks like a fucking painting. A statue fit for a museum in some European country that people pay just to see. He’s stunning. Cut from something completely out of this world. And he’s all hers. At least in this moment. All for her.

She blushes deeply at his brazen suggestion. But she appreciates the request, appreciates that it _is_ a request. Though, in some ways, this would be easier if he didn’t give her the option to decline. And from what she’s learned from kissing him, he’s not exaggerating. Her blush deepens and she draws in a breath.

And nods, “Yes, please.”

\--

"Alright."

Vergil trails hot kisses down her throat, down her chest and all down her stomach, only stopping just above the waistband of her pajama pants. He glances up at her one last time, and when he gets the go ahead, he slides them down her thighs, leaving only her panties in the way.

Which are adorable.

If Vergil were the blushing type, he just might've, seeing the small little brush-stroke koi fish printed on them. It wasn't particularly erotic to Vergil, just... Very, very Nero. "These are rather cute."

Slowly, Vergil rids her of them too, sliding them down her thighs and off her legs, letting them drop to his floor. He pauses a moment, before looking up at Nero from between her legs, "Here."

He takes both her hands, and laces their fingers together.

\--

Nero isn’t self conscious. She’s self aware enough to know she’s attractive. Cute, even. But that doesn’t stop her from blushing bright pink at the way Vergil smiles at her panties. And comments on them. “Shuttup,” she mumbles as he goes to take them off.

It’s slow, and sensual, and honestly everything she expects from Vergil at this point. He takes his time undressing her. It makes her squirm and sigh.

When he takes her hands though.

That escalates this to an entirely new level and she doesn’t know whether or not she’s there yet. Or if she ever will be. But he’s so _good_ to her. So wonderful and kind and _caring_. She lets him have this. Lets him hold her hands and have that connection. She offers him a small smile, both to hide her insecurities about the hand holding and about how _bare_ she suddenly feels before him.

\--

Vergil kisses the inside of her thigh, and eats her like she's the most delicious fucking meal he'll ever have.

Starts slowly, running the flat of his tongue up her firmly. His eyes flick to hers and close again, concentrating. But not on what he's doing-- He's listening. Playing hot and cold with her noises, taking his time to _taste_ her and really learn how to dismantle her.

So when Vergil decides she's wet enough, he lets the real fun begin.

He sucks at her clit gently, once again looking up at her face and oh god, she's... Wow. Vergil hasn't seen anything as radiant as Nero, nothing as beautiful, and nothing as worthy of his attention. Now, he brings the tip of his tongue to her clit and circles around it, only stopping to start sucking again. The only time he stops is to kiss at the dip of her thigh, growl low, and murmur, "I'll tell you when to come."

\--

He proves just how much skill he’s got with his tongue.

Several times over, in fact. It’s all exploratory at first. She can tell he’s just working her over to see her reactions. She gives them freely, little pants and whines when she likes something, outright moans when she _really_ likes something. And he takes every sound, every breath, and he uses it.

Her fingers flex and curls and grip in his hands, squeezing because it’s so _good_. Her back arches, her toes curl, and her breathing is reduced to little more than short, shallow pants and breathy moans. He builds her up with a constant pace, never letting up.

Except when he pauses to remind her he’s in control.

She nearly loses it. Nearly can’t hold back when he says that. It drives her _mad_. And she hopes he knows it by the way she cries out, whimpers, starts trying to say words but can’t seem to make anything more than abstract sounds form. Her head throws back and her grip on his hands tightens again and she _begs_.

It comes out high, thin, and whiny, “Vergi- ah- please, _Vergil_.”

\--

"Shhh," Vergil hushes, kissing just below her hip. "Shhh."

Vergil continues, and doesn't stop until Nero is _pleading_. It's music to his ears-- He's wanted this so long, wanted to have the fucking honor of even just kissing her for so long, of just being in her presence. And now it's more; Vergil can finally fill in where Dante has fallen behind.

So Vergil pulls up, kisses her stomach and lets his fingers do the work, brushing her opening just barely. "I can also finish you like this, if you'd like."

\--

Nero’s hips move practically of their own accord, searching for the friction of his fingers when he teases at her. She whimpers, so close and very much at a loss for words. One hand shakily strokes at his cheek then runs through his hair before gripping and pulling him up. She kisses him, moans at the way she can taste herself.

When she pulls back, she gives him the sultriest stare she can manage in her state, “I’d like that, nng, very much.” Her hips continue to buck into him and her legs shake. She’s so desperate for it, so close, so ready to let go.

“Please,” she whispers hoarsely into his ear, fingers tight in his hair.

\--

It's the touch to his cheek that makes Vergil feel like this is all okay.

That this isn't wrong. That maybe Nero never _was_ Dante's to begin with-- And maybe they could make this whole fucking thing work, maybe they could just be like this, just like this, happy and...

Foolishness, Vergil.

He leans into her touch regardless, closing his eyes and sinking his two middle fingers slowly inside of her, kissing at her neck as he goes. "Shhh, dove, just breathe." 

Nero's fingers tight in his hair ground him, as if teasing her from within wasn't grounding enough. He doesn't move his fingers much; Just keeps rubbing at her walls until he finds that _spot_ he knows is gonna make her come, like it or not.

"Come, when you're ready."

\--

Vergil doesn’t _do_ all that much with the fingers he has inside her, but as it turns out, he doesn’t really need to. He does just fine driving her _insane_ with the little massage he gives her. And when he hits that spot, she screams. It drives her wild, makes her spasm and twitch. But not come, not yet.

But his voice nearly does it.

She holds on a bit more. just a little longer riding these waves of intense pleasure from the way Vergil holds her, works her over.

She makes the mistake of looking into his eyes.

He stares at her with such passion, such _love_. She can’t hold back her orgasm anymore, comes over his fingers, feels fluid leak out soak him and probably the sheets below her. She’d need to apologise for that. But her mind is too busy with the way he looked at her, is still looking at her. And how he probably thinks that’s what sent her over the edge, seeing him like that.

She has half a mind to let him believe it. She doesn’t want to do that to him. Doesn’t want to break his heart. But they’re far too deep for there to be any other way out of this. And she’s sure she’ll want out of this. She loves Dante, that hasn’t changed.

She’s going to destroy him.

\--

When they lock eyes and she comes, Vergil feels what little heart he has left swell. 

It had to be that, it had to be. Vergil made her squirt, but not before she looked at him - after. After she looked _right_ fucking at him, after they shared one of the most intimate moments two people can share, after she _came_ from just _looking_ at him. 

Oh god, Vergil loves Nero so much.

"Shhh," he whispers, "Shhh. Go slow, Nero, go slow. It's alright, it's alright." 

You did so beautifully.

\--

Her breathing calms after some time, and she just lays there. She lays there, lets Vergil do as he will. Her heart is racing with the implications. This man is clearly far more infatuated with her than she first thought.

He is very clearly in love with her.

She hates herself that she likes how that feels. Likes how it feels to have him love her, care for her, want her. Her stomach churns, but she doesn't leave, doesn't run away, doesn't cut this off. Doesn't begin to do what she should. 

Instead, she looks over to him, to where he's straining through his pants. Her hand lifts and gestures toward him, "D- do you want me to...?" Her voice trails off, but he gets it, she knows he does.

\--

Vergil shakes his head in response to her question, not wanting her to have to do anything for him. "No, this was for you. I don't-- I'll be fine."

Vergil makes sure to make a show of his next move, however. He brings his fingers to his lips and licks them clean, with nothing more than a whisper of "You taste divine, you know."

Composure, Vergil.

He stands, moving away from Nero and taking his shirt and her clothes off the floor, setting them beside her on his bed. "Don't worry about the sheets, I can wash them. I should... We should clean up. We've made quite the mess, it seems."

This was a very, very, grave mistake.

\--

Nero was about to look away, about to climb off the bed and put some clothes on. But something stops her. The way Vergil stares her down as he licks his fingers clean of her captivates her. But it’s what he whispers that really drives her insane. She _whimpers_ when he says it and the sound surprises even her.

But then it’s over. Vergil stands, retrieves their clothes, starts to do the responsible thing.

As she sits up, she realises she feels lost, in a way. Dirty. She doesn’t regret it, oh no. It was far too good, far too needed for her to regret. But she does feel guilty, knows it was a mistake, poor decision making.

And with the way Vergil moves around the room, she suddenly feels very alone. She has a moment of panic in which she feels abandoned. A shudder runs through her and she feels cold suddenly. What if Vergil leaves her? What if Dante finds out and leaves her, too? What if she ends up alone?

It’s quiet, but it’s borderline a sob, “Vergil? Don’t- don’t leave?” Her hand grips in the sheets next to her shirt, still laying next to her, having never put forth the effort to put it back on.

Then she shakes her head, banishes the thoughts swimming in her mind, refuses to let it devolve into panic. She grabs her shorts, pulls them back on. “How much time do you think before he’s back?”

\--

Vergil runs both hands through his hair, effectively pushing it back and away from his face, moving the loose strands out of his eyes. It's as he walks into his bathroom to throw his shirt back on that he feels like he's borderline _raped_ her.

Vergil's reflection startles him. His eyes are foreign, even to him-- They seem... Lustful. Vulnerable. 

Vergil has never hated himself more than he has now.

He disguises it well, though. Cleans himself up, steps back into his room only for Nero to cry, beg him not to leave. "Nero..." he murmurs, watching her dress with shaky hands. "Stop, stop. Just sit, Nero, you're hardly breathing."

\--

Nero takes a heavy, shaky breath. She stamps down the panic, reminds herself no one has left her, no one is leaving her. At least not yet.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she assures. She looks up to him, “I’m sorry, I just… had a moment. I’m ok.” She finishes dressing, calming herself down, trying not to panic again.

When she finishes, she looks back to Vergil. He’s still there, and that lets her breathe a little easier. But something catches her eye. Something she can’t place is off about him. He seems… strained. For lack of a better word. She stands, goes up to him. For a moment, she tries to put a hand on his bicep, stops halfway there and lets it drop awkwardly. “What about you? Are you alright? Is- Did I fuck something up?”

\--

"Fine." 

Vergil doesn't mean to snap. It's just how it comes out. He doesn't look at her, he hardly even inhales. They hadn't even had sex, and Vergil had _violated_ her.

And he knew it.

"Go. Dante should be home soon. He'll want to see you," he breathes, turning away from her. "Please don't make me ask you again."

He feels his guard return. He feels his own space being intruded upon, the room feels too small and his throat is beginning to twist and feel sore, and Nero's eyes on him feel like fire. His skin burns where she touched him and he wants to... Vergil is unsure what he wants.

But it hurts.

\--

Nero bites back tears. Shreds the inside of her lip in the process. She fucked up and now Vergil probably wouldn’t speak to her. She used him and now he won’t be there at all. Not as this- whatever it is- and not even as a friend. She fucked up.

There’s no point in trying to reconcile at this point. It’s clear Vergil’s made up his mind. She’ll go back to crying when Dante leaves, tortured by his scent. And it will be fine. He’ll never have to know about this lapse in judgement.

So she leaves. Walks out of the room to the living room, sits on the couch, pulls her knees up to her chest and waits. Waits for Dante to come home and for life to return to normal.

Absent one friend.

It’s probably another twenty minutes before the front door bangs open and her head snaps up. Her boyfriend, disheveled from the night of partying crashes in unsteady and still drunk. The way he moves is so vastly different from Vergil, it sets her mind at ease. This is the man she loves.

Her lips curl into a smile as she looks to him, “Dante.”

\--

Dante stumbles in, and Vergil locks his door.

Dante, however, hungover as he may be, lifts his aviators to look at Nero. "Aren't you a fuckin' sight for sore eyes," he whistles, essentially stripping in the doorway. His keys and jacket hit the table with a clatter, and his shoes are left by the door. "Shit, baby girl, I fuckin' missed ya like crazy."

His steps towards her are unsteady, but by no means malicious. Dante kisses the top of her head, one hand scratching at the back of her neck, fingers in her hair. "Where's Verg? Brooding as usual?"

\--

Nero smiles and leans into Dante’s touch. Closes her eyes at the way he scratches her neck. He feels like home. He feels right.

“Mmm, in his bedroom,” she replies without hesitation. Her legs stretch out automatically and she relaxes into the couch. She reaches for his free hand, twines their fingers.

“Hey, big guy. You wanna get some sleep or…?” Her question trails off but her eyes suggest what she’s going for. The only way she knows she can keep him with her.

\--

Dante grins, eyes flashing behind his aviators. He takes them off and sets them on the table, moving to pin Nero to the couch with both hands on either side of her. "Shit, sleep sounds good. 'S gonna be after I give you one fuck of a hello, though." 

Dante moves to sit beside her, taking her hand and laying back so she can sit square on his lap. "God, you're sexy when you look down on me like that."

Dante gets to work, as he always does when he's with Nero. She's just legs for days and the definition of a bad fuckin' bitch - 'course he's gonna be handsy when she's the first thing he sees. Beautiful girl, even greater girlfriend.

\--

Nero takes Dante’s lead, swinging her leg over to sit on his lap, loom over him. She grins, grinding down into him a bit. It’s exhilarating, the way he makes her feel. It’s like riding a hurricane.

His hands grope at her and she revels in it. She works hard for him, moving in the ways she knows he loves. Twisting and writhing over him.

Somewhere at the back of her mind she wishes Vergil would walk out on this.

The thought is gone soon as it comes, and her mind moves on to keeping up with Dante’s hands on her and hers on him. She leans down to kiss him and it’s rapture. It’s hard and impatient, needy and quick. Just what she expects from him.

When his hands start moving downward, though, she suddenly becomes aware of something she forgot.

She never put her panties back on.

Her movements stutter minutely. Maybe even imperceptible, especially in Dante’s less than sober state. Then she’s back at it. With any luck, he’ll ignore the absence. Better still, he’ll assume she did it on purpose for him. It’s unlikely he’d guess the truth behind it all.

\--

Dante laughs against her mouth, rolling his hips up against hers and refusing to take his hands off of Nero. Currently, they rest on her sides, teasing at the hem of her shirt and tugging. "You gonna gimme a show, or are you gonna make me beg? 'Cause I wanna see more of you."

Dante's hands are now quickly finding their way up her thighs, hands flattening to slide up under them to squeeze her ass, _repeatedly_.

Only to realize that she is lacking something kind of important.

Dante's hands snatch back and he attacks the front of her shorts, moving to undo them and pull them down to-- 

"Oh fuck, that's really hot," he grins, going to help Nero out of her apparently-useless shorts. "Haha, 'm gonna eat you alive, baby girl, Jesus fuck."

\--

Nero struggles not to sigh in relief. She gets up long enough to let her shorts fall to the floor then goes right back to Dante’s lap. She runs her hands up his front, feeling the familiar lines of him. Then she reaches down her own body and pulls her shirt over her head, naked for the second time today.

“Yeah? We’re gonna make a mess if we stay out here.” Even as she says it though, she grinds down into his lap, moans at the friction it creates. She kisses him hard, hands fumbling to get at his jeans.

She’s desperate now. Still a bit sensitive from earlier, but she imagines Dante will enjoy the sounds that pulls from her, so it doesn’t worry her. She grins again, “You gonna keep me waiting?”

\--

Dante whistles at Nero's naked figure-- Which, by the way, is grinding _right_ against his dick and making it very hard to focus. "Shit," he moans, one and on her hip and the other dipping to _feel_ her, make--

Huh?

Dante isn't sure whether to laugh or moan - she's wet. Not unusual, considering what they're doing, but even still, usually this would be just a goddamn warmup. "You been touchin' yourself, baby?"

Pfft, whatever. Makes things go quicker. 

Shifting just slightly, Dante reaches to pull a condom out of his back pocket while Nero works at his jeans, and tears it open as quick as he can. "C'mon, I want you, been thinkin' about this all morning."

\--

Her pulse leaps when he asks if she’s been touching herself. Not _exactly_. But it’s a good enough excuse. “Couldn’t wait.”

She gets his jeans open about the same time he gets the condom free. She smirks, goes in for another kiss and takes the condom from him, rolling it on him herself while she grinds into his thighs. She _aches_ for this. Especially after last night and this morning, she wants to be reminded. Wants to be manhandled.

When the condom is on, she wastes no time raising herself up and sinking back down on his dick. It’s easy, it’s familiar, it’s exactly what she needs. She swivels her hips for a bit when she’s seated firmly in his lap before starting an easy bouncing rhythm. One that hits her in all the right places, makes her cry out and moan.

At the back of her mind, she wonders if Vergil is listening.

\--

Vergil is having what he likes to call 'one fuck of a day', and it's hardly noon.

Of course Dante is fucking her. Of course Nero goes to him after it was her who came on _his fingers_ in _his bed_ , after it was she who begged him; Vergil can recall the words clearly, even now.

Will you stay with me tonight.

Bullshit. It's bullshit and Nero is a liar, Vergil thinks. A liar and greedy, a... No. No, that's not quite true, and Vergil knows it. She's just hurt, and tired of having to sate Dante at every turn. That doesn't make her a harlot.

It makes her hurt. 

Even still, Vergil feels tense, angry. Livid, even-- He can hear his brother's and his lover's sounds (which, to be truthful, he's gotten used to, it's frequent), and it does nothing more than irritate him further. Irritate is too soft of a word, come to think of it - more like ignites him to the core. 

Dante uses Nero like a whore. And frankly, it's really getting fucking old.

\--

It doesn’t take long for Dante to take control, grip her hips and choose the pace at which she moves. She lets him, loves when he does it. He goes fast and hard and brutal. It makes her whole body sing with little shivers.

A glint in his eye is her only warning before he shifts gears, wraps a hand around her throat and holds her up so he’s barely still inside her. “Want you to fuck yourself on me like you mean it, baby girl. Moan like a whore for me.”

That alone makes her moan just as he asks. When he lets her sink back down, she gets to work. She gyrates as she moves, fast and brutal just like he likes. Her nails scratch at his shoulders where she’s steadying herself. It’s hardly a few minutes before she’s begging, _begging_ , him for release.

He has to be close, he’s enjoying this as much as she is.

\--

Whore.

It's what finally snaps the band, what finally tips the scale, what breaks his composure that he's kept for as long as he could. "Shut _up_!" 

Wiping a hand over his mouth, Vergil doesn't realize he's shaking. His chest feels tight, his throat feels closed up, and his eyes sting. He doesn't know what's wrong, he's never felt as deeply shaken as he has now, not since--

Vergil punches the mirror above his dresser, and it shatters.

As well as the bones in his hand, he's sure. The shards tear at his flesh and burrow into the muscle, and he can do little more than watch the blood pour - literally _pour_ \- from the wide gashes in his knuckles and between his fingers.

"Shit," he hisses, making the mistake of shaking out said hand, splattering blood across the carpet. "Mother _fucker_ \--"

\--

She comes, messy and wet over Dante’s lap, just after he does.

And almost immediately following, they hear glass shatter. As Vergil is the only other person in the house, it has to be him. Nero looks down to Dante, still connected, “We should…”

“Ignore it, he’s just pissed because he can’t get laid.”

Nero frowns at Dante, and climbs off of him. No sooner has she moved clear of him, and he’s pulling the condom off, throwing it in the general direction of the trash, and standing up. He adjusts, zips his jeans back up and smacks her ass. “Bed time. Why don’t you clean yourself up and join me?”

She nods absently, still concerned about the breaking glass. She finds her pajamas scattered around the couch and goes to put them on. Doesn’t even bother hurrying, Dante’s already opening the door to his room. She’ll be lucky if he gets his pants off before he collapses into the mattress.

When his door closes behind him and she’s gotten at least some semblance of decency, she pads over to Vergil’s door. She knocks softly, three times. “Vergil? Are you alright? I heard glass break…”

\--

"No," Vergil murmurs, examining his unsteady hand before flicking his eyes to the door, and back again.

Even still, he unlocks his door.

Vergil's hand is on fire, wet with blood and shining with pieces of glass, almost like some kind of macabre glitter.

"I'm alright," he says, more audibly, "I just... Did something rather unintelligent."

\--

When she hears the click of the lock, Nero turns the knob and lets herself in.

Her eyes are drawn to the broken mirror over the dresser. There’s glass _everywhere_ and some of it is painted red. She takes in the scene, more red droplets on the carpet, the dresser. Finally, she lets her eyes find Vergil.

He looks a mess. Mostly because of his shredded hand still weeping blood. It’s clear what happened, he punched the mirror. Probably in anger. Probably because of her. She loathes that she’s the cause of this.

Slowly, like she’s approaching a frightened animal, she steps toward him. She reaches out to take his hand in hers, examining it, “Jesus, Vergil. This is going to need stitches. Where’s your first aid kit?” Her thumb rubs the nearest clear patch of skin on his hand, trying to soothe him without causing any more pain. “We should get this cleaned up.”

\--

Vergil doesn't move any more than he has to. He lets Nero take his hand, but he ignores her words-- His throat is too tight to speak, chest too tight to let air in and out with words, anyhow. And then he remembers--

She's been touching _Dante_.

He recoils like she tried to make his wounds worse, snatches his hand back and holds in a hiss. It _hurts_ , damnit, everything _fucking_ hurts. Even looking at Nero, albeit down his nose.

"I don't need anything, I said I was fine," Vergil bites, eyes narrow. He knows that's not true, though, because he can already tell there's glass stuck in his flesh, continuing to cut _more_ each time his fingers move. This will likely scar, he knows.

Vergil, shaky and unsteady, looks at her once more, this time with far less venom. This time it's more of a silent thank you, thank you for even bothering to check on me, thank you, Nero--

He doesn't even realize he's started to cry for the first time in seven years.

\--

When he pulls away, Nero looks at his eyes, sees the hurt there. Her chest squeezes and she knows this is all her fault. Her fault for letting him kiss her. Her fault for kissing him again. Her fault for sleeping in the same bed with him. Her fault for letting him touch her.

It’s all her fault.

Still, she’s never been good at the whole being hurt and guilty thing. Even when she’s upset about Dante, she tends to lean toward anger for her resolution. Her gut boils with the familiar sensation and her face draws into a deep frown. She’s just about to snap at him, tell him off, yell at him for being such an ass when all she wants is to help.

Tears fall from the corners of his eyes.

She’s never seen Vergil cry. Never even heard of it happening before. She supposes it must have. These boys have had a lot of pain in their lives. But she’s never _seen_ it. Never even imagined it.

It’s heartbreaking.

Never before has Vergil looked so much the broken, defeated _child_.

She goes to him again, reaches out but doesn’t touch him, just lets her hand hover in case he wants to push her away. “Hey, Vergil- shhhh, hey. Hey.” Her voice is a quiet whisper, as caring and gentle as she can manage. She wants to pull him into an embrace, but she’s worried that he’ll push her away, that it’ll make it all worse.

It’s her fault he’s crying, after all.

\--

Vergil isn't sure why he's being hushed at first, or why Nero suddenly looks like she... Like she pities him. He wants to snap again, tell her he doesn't _want_ or need some woman's pity, but he doesn't.

He just decides to feel how he feels, and leans into her hand like an animal might.

It's nice, having comfort, Vergil discovers. Nero seems to be very good at drying tears, and for that, he's thankful. His shoulders are shaking and tears are falling, but even so, Vergil tries very, very hard not to cry. 

There was only one woman in his life who deserved his tears, and that was when she left it.

Vergil doesn't trust his voice, so he doesn't speak. Nuzzles Nero's hand instead, kisses her palm and _regrets_ it, but he... He's in far too deep now.

\--

Nero smiles gently when he leans into her hand. And for a while, they just stand like this. Vergil nuzzles her hand, leans into it… kisses her palm.

Her heart aches for him. She feels terrible. Yet that doesn’t stop her from taking one more step, close enough kiss him. But she doesn’t. Just leans into him, wraps her arms around him, rubs his back. She’s never been much for comforting people, but she tries. Hopes her quiet embrace is enough.

Hopes her barely whispered “I’m sorry” can atone for even half of what she’s done to him.

After a long while she pulls back, “You should really let me clean that up. And get stitches. It looks pretty bad.”

\--

Vergil lets her hold him, and tries to stop crying. Nero's apology registers, but he still can't trust his voice. He tries to keep quiet, and succeeds-- And when they finally part, he's stopped crying. 

When he finally does speak, it's raspy. "Dante," he starts, clearing his throat, "Dante has a bottle of vodka above the fridge he thinks he hid. I'll need that first, unless you fancy my snapping," Vergil sighs, before tacking on a, "...And then pour it down the sink. If he asks, I did it."

\--

Nero is surprised by the last statement. Glad for it, but still surprised. Dante certainly doesn’t need more alcohol than he already gets.

She leaves Vergil in his room, makes a detour to Dante’s room, finds him passed out on his bed just as expected. Then she goes to the kitchen. Getting the bottle off the fridge is difficult, requires the help of one of the dining room chairs. She pours a glass, probably around three or four shots. Hopefully Vergil won’t need more than that, she has no idea of his tolerance.

Then the bottle gets upturned.

She revels in watching the liquid swirl around the drain, glug out of the bottle until it’s empty. It feels like a victory, even though it’s small. She smiles when she drops the empty bottle into the trash.

Vergil’s exactly where she left him when she returns and hands him the glass.

\--

Vergil leads her back to his bathroom, still trying to keep the blood off the carpet-- which, in his effort, is now running down his arm. 

He holds himself over the sink, alcohol in his hand, and knocks back half the glass without blinking. The rest is set on the counter near the sink, and he runs his hand under water, trying to numb it. 

"Do you know how to give stitches, Nero?" Vergil asks, turning to her and cocking an eyebrow. "If not I can - _Ah_ \- I can show you. There should be a stitch kit above the toilet in the cabinet."

Vergil hasn't used said kit since he was thirteen-- And even then, it wasn't on himself. Dante had gotten into a fight at school, and he'd lost; His second-place prize was a split lip and busted nose. 

"I'm sure I interrupted you and Dante. You don't need to do this."

\--

Vergil asks about her care experience and she realises she really might be in over her head. “Ah, no, I never have.” Still, she reaches for the kit and opens it on the counter next to the rest of the vodka. She takes his hand from the water, “Tweezers? We’ll need to pull out these shards first.”

She scoffs when he says she doesn’t need to do this, “Dante’s passed out in his room, you didn’t interrupt anything. I _want_ to help you, Vergil. Just tell me how.”

She maneuvers them so she can sit on the toilet to steady herself. Then she glances over to the kit. “Ok, what do I do?”

\--

Just tell me how, she says.

Just tell me how. Vergil bites his tongue, and he bites it hard. He wants to tell Nero the ways - You can help me by leaving. Help me by forgetting that I kissed you, help me by erasing your scent from my sheets, help me by _leaving me alone_.

But he says nothing.

Vergil doesn't have to teach her how to pull glass. It hurts, and he tries to hide it-- Leans against the sink and tries to keep still, not interfere too much. Even still, it's a hiss of " _Easy_ ," that leaves his lips, followed by "Just-- Apologies."

\--

Nero’s eyes flick up to Vergil’s face at his complaint, “You don’t have to act so strong. I know it hurts.” Her attention returns to her task at hand and she carefully pulls more shards out of his hand. Most of them are small, hard to see. But Vergil is a perfect patient, still and quiet. But he probably doesn’t notice his other hand curling into a fist every time something hurts a little too much. But she does.

It’s a long time before she feels comfortable enough to declare the shards gone from his hand. She sets the tweezers down and reaches for a cotton ball and one of the little packets of iodine. “Now for the hard part. Sure you trust me? I could take you to the hospital if you’d rather.”

\--

"No," Vergil says, "I trust you."

In too many ways.

But Vergil guides her through the process, teaching her how to give stitches in as much detail as he can, trying to keep his voice steady. He looks at Nero, who seems very focused, and he feels his heart stop.

No. No, Vergil wants to be angry, wants to be pissed because _how dare_ you play with me, you foolish girl, but he... Can't. He can't, not when Nero's so _genuinely_ nice to him. So he does his best to show his appreciation, with a simple whisper of "...Cпасибо." 

Vergil doesn't want to feel this way; He doesn't want to feel tempted to tilt her chin up, to look at her. Vergil doesn't _want_ to kiss her until she melts, doesn't want to hear her laugh when he kisses her neck with a 'Vergil, stoooop'. 

But that's just... The way it is.

\--

Nero gives her full rapt attention as Vergil explains what to do. When she starts, she’s determined to do it right. She puts all of her concentration and effort into it, making sure each stitch is tight and will hold, but not pulling at his skin. She appreciates the help from Vergil’s voice, calm despite everything. She’s sure that requires effort.

When she ties off the last stitch, she cuts the thread and cleans the area one final time before wrapping it carefully in bandages. She tries her hardest to be gentle. She’s caused enough pain.

When he whispers in Russian, she recognises the word. Knows it from Dante. Even knows the proper response. “Пожалуйста,” she says with a grin. “Should be all good now. I’m going to prescribe that you not punch any more mirrors, mister.” She pats his hand a tad awkwardly, making sure to avoid the wounded part, “Anything else I can do for you?”

\--

Vergil smiles slowly and softly at her response - her pronunciation is impeccable, and the word rolls off of her tongue just right. He wants to praise her, tell her just what he's thinking; But again, the words are caught in his throat. 

So Vergil just responds to her later statement. "It was merely a lapse in judgement," he explains, "Not something I want to do again."

It was a lapse in judgement, and he's about to have another one. 

Vergil carefully reaches out, and tilts Nero's head to the side. Bruises rest just under her jaw, and Vergil once again practices biting his tongue. Regardless of _both_ of their kinks, that brute _bruised_ her - and is now proceeding to sleep it the fuck off. "...Do they hurt?"

\--

Nero sighs when Vergil reaches out to her neck. It’s so natural to move the way he pushes, easy to follow where he leads. “Huh?” She looks into his eyes only to find him fixed on her neck. Then she realises what he’s talking about, she must be bruised. “N-no. Nothing hurts.”

Her breath catches. She suddenly realises how intimately close they are like this. The bathroom isn’t small, but it sure feels like it right now. Vergil’s close, and his hurt hand is still held in hers. His other hasn’t moved from her neck. They’re suddenly stagnant, frozen. There’s something thick in the air, unresolved tension.

She stares at him, words caught in her throat.

\--

Vergil, again, throws caution to the wind and kisses her once more. 

It's the last time, he swears. The last time, their last kiss, the curtain call on whatever weird little fling they had. He lingers, but not as long as he'd have liked - he pulls away with little more than, "Just let me disconnect."

And Vergil turns, sliding his hand out of Nero's with more thanks for fixing his hand, and an apology for intruding upon her personal space.

\--

She should have expected him to kiss her again.

Doesn’t know why she’s still surprised when he does. It’s lingering, but over far too soon. Nero follows just slightly when he pulls away, desperate for more. He moves away with apologies and thanks and she feels dejected and guilty and so confused all at once.

What is this? She feels drawn to him. She likes how he makes her feel. She likes the gentleness with which he treats her.

But she’s got Dante, sleeping completely oblivious in the next room.

So she gets up, leaves the bathroom. Spares a glance toward Vergil, “Take care of that. And let me know if there’s anything I can do for you. Ever.”

And she walks out, goes back to Dante, climbs into bed with him, and tries to forget all of this ever happened.

\--

Vergil has been struggling with himself the past few weeks.

He's tried to stay distant from Nero, tried to stray his thoughts when they wandered to her. Normally, they're only intrusive romantic thoughts; Thoughts of coming to lay beside her on the couch, thoughts of kissing her awake in the morning, thoughts of what she might like as a date.

But lately, they've switched gears.

Vergil doesn't want to think of Nero in the way that he has been. Doesn't want to dream of her covered in his teeth marks and his scratches, his name falling from her lips. Vergil doesn't want to wake up sweating bullets, fresh from a _wonderful_ fantasy.

There could be many causes, but having her panties that she'd forgotten in his dresser likely doesn't help.

It's happening even now. It's three in the morning, and he hears _something_ going on outside of his room. Vergil figures it's Dante, home and drunk, as he tends to be. So he tosses on flannel pants and decides against a shirt, ready to go help him to bed.

If he's going to be awake, he might as well make some tea, too.

\--

For a while, Nero stayed clear of Vergil. Didn’t come by unless she knew Dante would be there. There and _awake_. She didn’t look at Vergil, wouldn’t talk to him. It was easier than she thought. Probably because he was doing the same thing to her. Seemed to always be out or busy when she was over.

But then there were a few nights Dante left her alone.

She didn’t cry. Worse, she lusted. Lusted for gentle touches and slow lovemaking. She imagined smooth hands running over her and cold blue eyes looking at her like she was the only thing in the world. She lusted for Vergil.

She didn’t want to. Didn’t want to crave that touch. She just wanted to forget about how he touched her and how he made her feel. She wants Dante.

And one evening, she gets all done up for him. She finds these nice pastel, lace panties and a matching bra. Puts on her nicest garter belt clipped to white thigh highs with a lovely flowery lace pattern. Over it, she pulls on a short little mini skirt and a see through crop top that hangs loosely over her, off one shoulder. She spends ages staring at herself in the mirror, making sure everything is perfect before going to see Dante.

When she gets there, he’s already gone.

She forces herself not to cry. She wants to, _god_ she wants to. But she supposes it’s her fault for trying to surprise him, not telling him she would be over. Still, she kicks a chair in her frustration, sending it skidding across the floor loudly.

She doesn’t expect Vergil to be home. Doesn’t expect him to come out to investigate the commotion.

Doesn’t expect him to be wearing nothing but a pair of flannel pajama pants.

\--

"Dante, if I come out and I see you high, drunk, or both, we're not gonna have a very good night--"

Jesus, Mother Mary and Joseph.

Vergil's sure his breath audibly hitches, because he can feel it happen. His stomach flips hard, and he feels something burn low in his abdomen - lust. He doesn't _want_ to lust for Nero like this, but _Christ_ she's dressed like some sort of sinful, thick-thighed angel and he can't tear his eyes away from her. Vergil knows staring his indecent and wandering eyes are rude, but she's... Perfect.

"My apologies, Nero, I thought..." Vergil trails off, shaking his head and forcing his eyes away from her figure. "I-- This wasn't meant for me, I'm sure, I-- Apologies, I'm only here for tea."

\--

Vergil stands there and stares at her for a long time and she just stands and stares back, very much the deer in the headlights. She feels like she hasn’t seen him in ages, and this is certainly one way to have a reintroduction. The low light in the room practically shines off of him, and she can’t really stop her eyes from darting down his chest.

When he speaks, she finally snaps out of it. Her eyes shoot back to his and she remembers where she is, what she’s doing. She turns away and braces herself against the counter with a deep breath. “May as well be, Dante’s not going to see it now,” she mutters. She even half hopes he hears her. Though by his reaction at seeing her from the front, seeing her slightly bent over the counter from behind probably has him somewhat occupied.

She loathes the thought. Loathes and yearns for it.

A moment of hesitation and she spins back around, “It’s an awful waste, to just go to bed after I put so much into all of this.”

\--

"I can tell," Vergil says, watching her every move, even down to her light shifting. "And... You look very, very lovely, miss Nero."

Vergil is stuck. He wants to _litter_ her in love bites, wants to suck hickies onto the tops of her breasts and on the insides of her thighs, wants to leave his handprints on her ass. But he also wants to hold her, take her makeup off and help her into something comfortable, and just hold her close. Make her giggle, smile like she deserves.

But mostly, Vergil just wants to take her, cute little outfit and all. 

Vergil knows that if he stays any longer, he'll get hard. It's unavoidable-- While Vergil might not be much of a sexual being, he is only human. And boy, is he feeling that right fucking now.

\--

Nero’s tempting fate, playing a very dangerous game. She sways, just a little bit exaggerated, let’s one knee cock out while she leans into the other leg, hand on her bare hip. She’s going to hell. And she was caught when she turned around.

But when he says ‘miss Nero.’

She watches him struggle with himself. She’s somewhat surprised he even bothers. She’s just shy of going over to him and undressing him herself and she knows he knows it. She’s on display, and if Dante can’t be here to see her, she sure as hell is still going to show off. She put work into this.

“You ‘miss Nero’ me again and I might have to ask if you want me to call you Daddy.”

\--

Well, now she's gone and done it.

Vergil can feel himself slipping; But not in the way he would normally slip, not in the way he might normally lose composure. This time, he's slipping into dominance.

And Vergil doesn't even fucking care.

"You know, little dove," Vergil whispers, taking a striding step forward to pin her to the counter, hands on either side of her. "You are playing a very, very dangerous game, missy. And I might have to spank you for that."

\--

God, his voice sounds like honey. Smooth, and commanding, and ready to catch her in it’s trap. Her eyes slide closed, just for a moment, then she opens them again and peers up through her lashes, “‘M I not being a good girl for Daddy?”

She bites at her lower lip, a ploy of innocence she knows he wouldn’t buy. But that’s not the point. She flexes her fingers, tests how tightly he’s got her pinned. “Why don’t you tell me what you want then? I’m sure I can be good.”

All of her composure is lost by this point. Her mind has long since forgotten about why she came here in the first place. Forgotten why she was keeping away from the man pinning her to a kitchen counter. Forgotten why this is a very _very_ bad idea.

\--

"Oh, my dear," Vergil murmurs, leaning in almost close enough to kiss her, "You've always been Daddy's good girl."

Vergil leans back just barely, though, and looks down at her. "Why don't you go stand in the living room and show me what you've put on? I want to see all of it, I know you worked so hard." 

"When you're done showing me," Vergil continues, "Then we'll see about letting you have some fun."

\--

Nero smirks and pushes herself up when Vergil lets her. She makes a show of the way her body moves, gets up close to him before pulling away and walking toward the living room. She exaggerates the sway in her hips just a touch, teases him. Even looks back with her tongue poked out for just a moment.

Once in place, she turns back to face him and starts swaying to some imagined beat, slow and sultry. Her hands run over her without any real purpose, just accentuating her curves, her bare skin, the way the fabric hangs off of her.

Then she starts taking it off.

Pulls her top over her head and tosses it at Vergil, spins once to show off the more or less newly revealed bra underneath. She turns around for the next part, leans forward as she pulls the skirt over her ass slowly. She hopes he chokes.

When the skirt falls the the floor, she goes over to him, “Do you want to help with the rest?”

\--

Vergil would've been an idiot to follow, and an idiot not to.

He sits on the couch, legs crossed and back straight, unable to take his eyes away from Nero's wandering hands, away from her form. She knows just what she's doing, and Vergil knows he won't be able to keep his arousal hidden for too much longer. Nero is too good at this, he thinks, knowing where to draw attention and how to get some kind of sick daydream going, especially when he really just wants to reach out and pinch that cute little ass of hers.

"Come here, darling. I'll help you."

Vergil doesn't lie; He helps. Or he tries, but it seems as though his wandering lips and hands become a little bit of a problem. "This is a beautiful set, Nero," he breathes against her stomach, pressing kisses just above her navel, "And I think we ought to keep it on."

Vergil lets his hands wander, just feeling. Down the dip of her back and over her ass - which he smacks lightly, for good measure - and between her thighs-- But not where he's sure she wants. "Nero," he says, "I'm going to _devour_ you."

\--

Nero isn’t sure what it is.

Maybe it’s the way Vergil keeps getting distracted from taking anything off by her. Not something Dante would ever do. After her clothes are off, sure, but he’s always quick about getting them off. But Vergil. He leaves them, just explores her, makes this about _her_.

Or maybe it’s the way his tone changes at every sentence. Commanding then sweet. Loving then dark. Or the way it trails off sort of while he’s trying to keep feeling her and talk at the same time.

Or maybe it’s just the way he looks at her. She never needs to question how he feels about her. It’s more obvious than anything. He loves her, wants her, maybe even needs her. It makes her feel captured, the center of attention.

She lowers herself down into his lap, “Oh I hope you do.”

\--

Vergil holds back a hiss when Nero settles herself into his lap - it's just the barest bit of friction, but it feels good, and doesn't last nearly as long as he hoped. Vergil moves to kiss Nero, and then back down to her neck, to her collar.

He bites.

Sinks his teeth into the soft flesh of her unmarred skin, and soothes it over with a lick. Vergil hums at the taste, hands sliding up her back to unclip her bra. It's quickly discarded, and Vergil immediately replaces it with his hands, looking up at her.

"What do you want from me, darling?" Vergil whispers, pinching her nipples teasingly, "You'll have to tell me. I can't read minds."

\--

Nero should care. She should care that Vergil is very likely going to leave a mark where he’s bitten her. Should care how she’ll explain that to Dante. But she doesn’t because it feels so _good_. She whines, grabbing on to Vergil’s shoulders to ground herself, steady herself.

She yelps when he pinches her nipples, the action sending sensation all through her. She wiggles, with some sense of purpose, feeling him beneath her. "And here I thought you could, you've been doing such a good job so far."

Her hands run down his chest slowly, varying pressure. But she makes her path direct, makes it to the hem of his pants. One hand continues down to grope him through the fabric. "How about you show me what you've been thinking about that's got you so excited, hmm?"

\--

Nero's shifting finally draws a noise out of Vergil, and he moans low in his throat, trying to keep his voice from getting too breathy. He has to keep up appearances, after all.

"I've been thinking about you," he answers honestly, "Thinking about how I'm going to make you moan for me and me alone. Thinking about how I want you to make a mess of those pretty little panties you've got on."

Nero, however, seems to be doing just whatever she pleases. Vergil chokes out a moan and he's never been one for begging but before he can even stop it, a, "Nero, keep doing that," spills from his lips.

\--

Nero starts a lazy grind on Vergil's lap while her hand pays attention to him. She just gropes lightly for a bit, listening to his fantasies. But when he finishes, she sneaks her hand under the fabric, goes for something a bit more direct. 

She grins when he tells her to keep going. Like she intended to stop. It's sinfully easy to get him worked up. Run her hand up and down the length of him. She keeps her body moving, grinding and swaying. She wants his attention, all of it, on her. 

"Well you can't just talk about it, why don't you do something about it," she stares him down and squeezes him just a little harder, "Daddy."

\--

"Ha-ah--"

Vergil's voice is soft, and his noises are choked. He tries so hard not to scare her, tries so hard not to tell her what he really thinks of her. So Vergil silences himself by moving to latch onto one of her nipples, sucking and licking over it while his free hand teases her through her panties.

But it's her calling him Daddy that really, really sets him off.

" _Nero_ ," he murmurs, pulling away to throw his head back, sucking in a breath and letting it out as a shuddering exhale. "Fuck, I--"

\--

"Oh? Flustered are we?" she moans as he touches her. She likes that she can play this game with him, like the power she has over him. She wants to see him take it back. 

So she stops. And as much as she wants to keep grinding into his hand and finding all the ways to make him slip out of himself, she backs away. Pulls herself back and gets off of him. She stands just out of reach of him, just far enough away that he'll have to make a move of his own if he wants her. 

She looks at him, devilish smirk stretching her lips, "What's the matter, Vergil?"

\--

Oh, goddammit.

Vergil should've known. He should've known she was going to tease him, should've known she was going to start playing games.

Well. He'll just have to play with her now.

Vergil leans forward and reaches out, digging his nails into her pretty thighs. "Don't toy with me. I hate meddling, teasing little girls," he reprimands, raking his nails down her to leave angry red lines. "Come back and sit on Daddy's lap, doll."

\--

She loves the sting of his nails down her thighs. It’s exquisite. She likes the dangerous reprimand. She likes all the names he calls her. Darling, dove, doll, dear. So different from Dante’s names for her. They make her feel a little fluttery, special. Like she’s the only one.

Nero considers misbehaving. Considers backing up another step, just to see what he’d do. Maybe another time-

No.

There would be no ‘another time.’ This is it. This is the only time.

She lets him pull her back to him and sits back down. Her arms drape over his shoulders, crossing her wrists behind his neck. “Curious, what would you have done if I had felt more… disobedient?”

\--

Vergil sighs through his nose when she sits again and pulls her close so their bodies are flush against each other, one hand returning to tease her while the other rests on her pretty hip. It's only light tracing, feeling where she's beginning to soak through her panties and where he knows she's sensitive from their... Previous encounter.

"Well," Vergil begins, peppering her neck and chest in slow kisses. "I would've stood. I know you're quite the little masochist, so I'd spank you. Make you count the lashes, and if you lost count, start over. Or," he pauses to push her panties to the side, just _barely_ ghosting over her, "I'd have pinned you down, gotten you close, and then made you finish yourself in front of me."

Vergil can't help it. He pulls her panties back in place, and whispers, "You like my hands so much, and I said I wanted you to ruin those. Have you ever touched yourself, darling girl?"

\--

Now he's getting to her.

She pants and squirms while he talks her through potential punishments, all the while teasing her relentlessly. And even if she'd cared to, there's no hiding how goddamn wet she is. She moves with him, trying desperately to get more friction. Anything more than the maddening teasing he's giving her.

She thinks he's going to stop teasing when he pushes her panties out of the way. Expects to finally get what she wants. She should have known it wouldn't be so easy. 

Nero whines loudly when he rights them. She's getting impatient and it's soaking her even more.

The question is a bit of surprise. She flushes in embarrassment, "Of- of course I have." It comes out defensive and stuttered.

\--

Vergil could almost smile.

Nero may put up a hard front, but when she gets aroused, she falls apart and becomes pliant, becomes desperate. It's adorable, Vergil thinks, how she cries and whines for something when she really wants it. Adorable how she's panting, rutting on his fingers like a needy virgin, squirming like she's never been touched before.

But when Vergil hears her confirmation, the corner of his lips tilt into a smirk before he rights himself, kissing her sternum gently.

"So show me," Vergil says, his tone firm. "Show me how you make yourself feel good. I want to see."

\--

Nero feels her face heat up even more. She’ll put on a show, strut around, act like she’s got confidence forever. But touching herself in front of someone… She hasn’t even done that for Dante. It’s… personal. Private.

But Vergil has an air about him. It’s gentle, but leaves no room for interpretation. She doesn’t have a choice in this. If she wants to keep going, she has to obey. And the way he’s looking at her gives her a weird kind of courage.

So she takes one hand, slowly, tentatively. Starts at her neck and lets it run down her chest, her stomach, down to the lace. Her eyes squeeze shut as her fingers slide underneath the fabric.

She’s soaked. And every little brush of her finger has her biting her lip, trying not to cry out. She’s hardly ever this sensitive and she almost doesn’t know what to do with herself. Her hips buck involuntarily and her free hand grips in Vergil’s hair, holds on for dear life as she slips a finger inside herself.

\--

"Oh? _Flustered, are we_?" Vergil asks sarcastically, letting Nero hold onto him. He pets the backs and sides of her thighs softly, trying to ease her feelings of clear embarrassment. "That's it, doll, you're doing well."

Vergil holds her close, still watching her hand move under the lace as she touches herself. But Vergil stops her, suddenly, taking her wrist in his hand swiftly, though not harshly. "Ah-ah. Nothing inside. You have to wait for that, Nero, good girls always get their rewards."

\--

Nero glares at him when he throws her own words back at her. But no sooner has she opened her eyes to do so, she’s shutting them again as one of her fingers brushes herself just right. Her mouth opens in a little moan. 

She wants to glare again when Vergil grabs her wrist, stops her in her tracks, but instead she whines her complaint. But she nods, one eye cracked open, until he let's her get back to it. 

It's surprisingly easy to lose herself. She starts making little whining sounds, little gasps and pants, as she gets herself closer. She focuses on the way she feels, ignited and so good.

She's almost surprised when she comes, it's so fast. She works herself through it, wants to keep going and see if she can reach release a second time.

\--

"That's my girl," Vergil whispers against the skin of Nero's neck. "That's my girl, you did so well."

Vergil lets her continue, and watches the way Nero suddenly gets _very_ wet, soaking her panties and ruining them, just like he'd wanted her to do. "Beautiful."

And when she does come twice, Vergil makes sure to stop her, wanting to save the third for himself. "Why don't you lay down, darling? Let me take care of you."

\--

Vergil stops her after the second time she comes, not long after the first. She’s almost forgot he’s there, watching her with rapt attention.

Almost.

But she hasn’t. And he’s speaking to her so softly, so encouragingly. She takes her hand, fresh from bringing herself to orgasm twice, and puts it to his lips, just for a moment, before climbing off of him to move to lay down.

\--

Like hell Vergil's gonna pass up an opportunity to taste her.

Without blinking, pausing or hesitating, he takes Nero's fingers into his mouth to suck them clean, though briefly. Vergil helps Nero lay down, helps her get situated. He runs his hands up her thighs, skin smooth beneath his palms and he can't help but think yes, she's safe here, safe under my hands where hurt can't reach her.

Though he knows not for long.

Vergil looks her over, carefully. He tries not to stare too long, but he's sure it's past that point. "You do look very lovely, you know."

Without further adieu, Vergil goes to shift his flannels out of the way, but pauses. "...I'm sure Dante hides condom stashes all over the house. Do you know where one might be?"

\--

Nero likes the way he sucks her fingers, so eager for her taste. And she likes the way he lays her down and touches her. Tender and soft.

She’s not sure how she feels about letting him practically stare at her, but she lets it happen, doesn’t complain when he gives her the compliment. Even flushes a bit.

Her head rolls back to look around the room, “I think he’s got some in the drawer there,” she says, pointing to the little end table behind her. “If not, I’m sure there are some in the cushions.” Dante is nothing if not prepared. Everywhere and any time.

The gravity of the question escapes her in that moment. She’ll have time to think about it later.

\--

"Of course he does," Vergil sighs, deciding just to lean over and reach over Nero to get them. "Of course he does."

It doesn't take long for Vergil to fetch one and toss the box back. He doesn't make Nero do it for him, nor does he even offer-- Simply tears it open and rolls it on, before bridging himself over her. "Are you sure?"

\--

Is she sure?

The question makes her hesitate. Up to this point, she hadn’t really been doing very much thinking. Just acting, working on impulse. Even actively avoiding conscious thought.

But is she sure?

She thinks about Dante. About how he makes her smile and laugh. How he makes her feel. She thinks about how much she loves him, how happy she is when he’s there.

When he’s there.

And when he’s not, she’s sad, angry, hurt. Feels like everything in the world is her fault. Feels broken and defeated and worthless. She thinks briefly on where Dante is tonight, between some girls legs, no doubt. It probably shows on her face how _angry_ that makes her, how upset.

Then she thinks about Vergil.

He loves her. That much is painfully obvious. He cares about her, wants her, doesn’t have Dante’s problem. But she just, isn’t there. She isn’t on the same level as him. She cares about him, but she isn’t in love with him. Not like he is with her.

But he cares, she’s alone, and they’ve already gotten this far.

She doesn’t know how long passes before she nods with a whisper, “Yeah.”

\--

Vergil watches Nero swim through her thoughts, watches her fight a civil war within the confines of her mind. He watches her get scared, get pissed, and then watches the _revenge_ cross her face.

But Vergil is patient. 

He lets her think. The silence hurts, but he lets her think because he knows Nero needs to. He nods politely, though, when she says yes. Vergil treats her gently, slides inside of her with some choked, drawn out moan of her name, nails digging into where he's got them positioned on the couch. 

This is the closest to heaven he's ever gonna get.

Once he's fully inside of her, Vergil just waits. Waits for her go ahead, waits for her to ask him to move.

And then he reaches up, and pushes his hair down. Anything to make her happy.

"Is that any better?"

\--

Nero sighs when he finally gets to it, finally pushes into her. He’s so _careful_ with her. Clearly doing anything he can to please her, make her feel safe and cared for. And he just waits. Waits for _her_ to give a say. The closest thing to rough he gets is the way his nails bite into the couch next to her.

Then he does something she never expected.

His hand reaches up and he musses his hair, pushes it down and forward.

Just like Dante.

And then, the silly boy, has the _gall_ to ask her if that’s any better. He’s hurting himself, forcing himself to take the place of his brother, because that’s what he thinks she wants. He’s desperate to please her, to do anything for her.

But she doesn’t want Dante. Not right now.

So she reaches up to him, both hands, and pushes his hair back again. She smiles when he looks like himself again, “No, I like this better.” She wants him to be himself, not some approximation for Dante. She may be horrible, using him to fill a void, but she isn’t trying to make him _be_ Dante. His appeal is in how different he is from him.

“You can move now, you know.”

\--

Nero pushes his hair back, and Vergil wants nothing more than to just hold her. "I see."

When she tells him to move, he does.

Vergil sets a slow pace at first-- Not gentle, just teasing. Slow strokes, peppers her neck in kisses before moving up to kiss _her_. Holds the sides of her neck and pets her jaw with his thumbs, occasionally letting out a low sound - a hum, a hiss or a groan.

I love you.

\--

It’s slow at first, teasing and delicate. There’s hardly a moment where he isn’t kissing her somewhere. And mostly, he’s quiet. But every now and then he’ll make low sounds, and those are the moments she concentrates on, the moments she _knows_ she’s doing something right.

Nero, on the other hand, is loud as always. Always whining, whimpering, moaning, panting. Her voice gets high and thin. But she needs _more_. She can’t tolerate this slow, teasing pace. It’s not enough. It drives her mad, and she’d love to just spend hours at this exact pace until she found nirvana at the end. But she’s desperate.

She bucks her hips up to meet him, trying to push the pace, begging for something more. “C’mon Vergil, please. More, faster.” Then, remembering earlier, “Please, Daddy.”

\--

"Fuck," Vergil breathes, driving into her just a little faster, moving to hike one of her legs over his shoulder. He bites into her thigh through her stocking and growls, eyes shut and brows knitted together in concentration. "Fuck."

Nero feels so wonderful. He feels as though this is how they're meant to be, that they're supposed to live out the rest of their lives together just like this-- Breathy, needy. But Vergil isn't stupid.

That's just how he feels, not what's likely going to happen. 

"Look at me," Vergil commands, "And tell me just what you want."

\--

They work.

There’s a certain push and pull, a certain synchronicity that just _works_ between them. He ravishes her in all the right ways. And the little breathy ‘fuck’s are like a sort of rhythmic music. A beat to go by. He’s so intent and concentrated, with his eyes shut. She feels like there could almost be something there, with them, with him.

But there isn’t.

At Vergil’s command, she stares at him. Looks up from under him and feels this shiver run through her. His gaze still shakes her to her core. Her fingers dig into him where she’s holding on to him, “Fuck me,” she pants between moans, “Make me scream, please, Vergil. Want you-” Her voice cuts off with a gasp and she never finishes the thought.

\--

Vergil really does try his hardest. Tries his hardest not to mark her any more than he has, tries to make Nero feel _good_. He loves her, and wants her to really know what it _means_ to have someone love her.

So Vergil does as he's asked.

He fucks into her not particularly hard, but deep. He thrusts upward, trying to brush that spot he knows drives her absolutely insane. "Is that better, darling?"

\--

Nero’s mind goes a blank when he starts driving directly into that spot inside her. The one that makes her scream like a cheap whore. She can’t even answer him. Not when her throat is full of sounds of pleasure and she can’t get words out around them.

She tries to tell him she’s close. Comes out more like a whine. Her nails almost definitely leave gashes in his skin as she tenses with the impending orgasm. Somehow, his name manages to pass her lips, “Vergil-”

\--

Vergil hisses, can feel blood begin to trickle down his back from those scratches and he _moans_ , buries his face in her neck and tries to let her come first. She says his name and Vergil realizes just how close he is-- Tries desperately to move one hand down to just barely brush at her clit. "Come for me."

Nero comes, and Vergil is close to follow.

He sinks his teeth into her neck one last time, groaning low at how _tight_ she becomes. He knows he said something, he can feel it leave his lips, but he isn't sure what. 

But Vergil looks at Nero, still breathing heavy, and brushes the hair from her eyes.

\--

The third orgasm is definitely the best.

She floats. There’s a number of things that make it pretty near perfect, but the way she came almost on command is her favourite. She sighs as teeth sink into her neck and it makes the whole thing so much more _intense_.

And then she hears words she never wanted to.

Always knew they were there. Always saw them haunting her from right behind his eyes, dancing on the tip of his tongue. And when he looks down at her and brushes the hair from her face, she can still see them there. His eyes are _bright_ with them. There’s this soft little smile on his lips that couldn’t mean anything else.

I don’t love you, Vergil.

I can’t.

Her heart is breaking while she looks up at him. This never should have gone this far. She never should have let this happen. She’s ruining him. Breaking his heart. And he doesn’t even know it yet.

He’s still buried inside of her, still connecting them on a level she should never have allowed. She remembers when he asked her if she was sure. And, the worst part is, she was. Still is. But she shouldn’t have been. Should have walked right out of the house the minute she realised Dante wasn’t around.

But here they are.

Too late.

\--

Vergil sighs when he pulls out, almost wincing from the sensitivity. He can't deny, that was easily the best orgasm he's ever had - not that he's had too many. Still, though, the time he just spent with Nero, he wouldn't trade for anything.

Which is why, when he's stood and cleaned himself up properly, he turns to Nero. 

Vergil makes sure Nero's clothes are at least somewhat back in place, and slides one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back wordlessly. He lifts her, holds her to his chest and carries her down the hall to his room. "You don't have to sleep here," he mumbles, "But I do have a change of clothes for you, if you'd like them."

Vergil sets her down on his bed and moves to slide his dresser open, taking out the panties she'd left and an old shirt of his own. He sets them beside her, nodding. "I'll be in the bathroom."

\--

Vergil never fails to take care of her, though. He picks her up without a word, takes her into his room and lays her on her bed. Probably for the best, she’s not sure if she would have been able to stand. And even more, he offers her a change of clothes, complete with the pair of panties she’d forgotten with him the first time.

And then he leaves.

He gives her privacy to make her decision, change. He doesn’t make her feel like she’s obligated to do anything, one way or the other. It’s reassuring.

She ends up changing. Pulls on the fresh pair of panties. It’s clear he washed them. Probably had them neatly folded up too. She throws his shirt over her head. For a moment, she debates going to get one of Dante’s, but that would be worse than a slap in the face, and after a night out Dante won’t even notice the shirt isn’t his.

She also takes a moment to debate whether or not she should stay. In his room at least. She could go to Dante’s, be there when he comes back again. But it’s not like sleeping in Vergil’s room is anything new. She’s done it innocently plenty of times. Not since that one night, though.

But she figures he’s done so much for her, and she really doesn’t want to break down in Dante’s room again, that she can do this. It can’t be worse than what they’ve already done.

So she stays.

\--

Vergil is more than ecstatic that she stays.

It doesn't outwardly show, but he's happy. She lays down and he follows suit, cuddling up behind her and throwing an arm over her. Protecting her, guarding her. Like he loves to do.

A hand wraps gently around her throat as it did the first time. Vergil's not sure why he does it-- It's just... Instinct. How he thinks she'll be safest.

"Goodnight, dove."

\--

When he comes back in, he does exactly as he did the first time they slept like this. Arm around her, hand gently around her throat protectively. She feels safe like this. Relaxed and watched over.

“Goodnight, Vergil.”

If things were different, she could love him.

She sleeps soundly. Safe and secure. And this time, as she wakes up, her first thoughts aren’t of Dante. Aren’t even regret for the night before. They’re just pleasant thoughts, safe, warm, and happy. Vergil’s arm is still securely around her and it feels so wonderful.

She nuzzles back into him with a happy little hum, “Vergil? Are you awake? What time is it?”

\--

"Time for you to get a watch," Vergil murmurs, kissing the back of her neck softly. "It's only nine. You can keep sleeping."

Vergil draws in a slow breath, nuzzling further into Nero, recalling the wonderful dream he'd had. It was of his mother, this much he knows - his mother and Nero. Nero had a child, his child, and his mother had been-- 

Vergil's phone buzzes.

Pulling it off his nightstand, he finds that it's Dante.

**'aye crashin @ ladys b home l8r'**

Eloquent.

"That was Dante. He said he's going to sleep off his hangover at Lady's, he'll be home later."

\--

Nero snorts when he snarks back at her and sighs when he kisses her neck. She’s barely shut her eyes again when Vergil pulls away to answer the call of his buzzing phone.

Dante.

Nero rolls over in Vergil’s embrace to face him, kisses his chest. “I’m not tired, you?” She looks up at him with a grin. She isn’t sure where this is all coming from, but she’s not going to question it. She’s made her bed, might as well lie in it.

She let’s her knee pull up so she can throw a leg over top Vergil’s, then nuzzles in tight against him. In the process, her face catches the scent of his shirt she’s wearing. It smells like him. She takes a deep breath in and inundates her senses with the scent.

\--

Vergil doesn't know where her energy is coming from, but he can't say he minds.

Hell, if she's going to be so naughty, he's well inclined to follow. Vergil lets his hand slip, slides coyly under the lace of her panties to cup her ass, and just leaving it, kneading ever so slightly. "What are you playing at, silly girl?"

\--

Nero could ask him the same question, with the way his hand wanders. She runs her hand down his spine barely there, “Seems like you don’t need to ask, hmm?”

She strokes her leg over his for a moment, kisses his chest. Then, quickly, she throws herself over him, supports herself on her hands and knees over top of him and looks down. “This give you a better idea?” She drops her hips and _grinds_ into him, only half surprised to find he’s already half hard.

\--

"Yes," Vergil groans, "It does."

It's the longest, best fifteen minutes of Vergil's life. Filled with sweat, moans coming freely from both of them, scratches, _gasps_. There's a little blood and a lot of whimpers, and when it's over, it almost feels too soon. 

Vergil lies with Nero in his embrace, still panting lightly. He lets out a sigh to even out his breathing, and kisses Nero's hair. "You never cease to amaze, do you?”

\--

It’s quick and dirty and just right for a morning tryst. So hasty, they don’t even bother with protection. Everything about it is bliss, filling the room with the sound of them. When they finish, Nero feels a little out of breath and the room stinks of sex. She loves it.

She grins at his comment, “I’m just full of surprises.” Moments later, she’s nuzzling back into his protective embrace and drifting in and out of slumber until they wake up enough for tea and toast, waiting for Dante to make his appearance.

It’s nearly two weeks later that her whole life turns upside down.

Nero’s always been ridiculously regular. Always exactly 28 day cycles. Starts bleeding at exactly the same time, right on the expected day, ever since puberty. So when she’s late a day. Then two. Then four, she starts to get worried.

In a panic, she buys about six different pregnancy tests from the local drugstore. Spends hours in the bathroom trying one, drinking about a gallon of water, then trying the next.

Every single one of them comes back positive.

First, she cries. She has a hard enough time dealing with her own life, much less bringing another into the world that she’s responsible for. For about a second, she considers going to the clinic. Right then, just going and doing away with it all. But she’d never forgive herself. And Vergil wouldn’t forgive her if he found out.

Vergil.

There was no way it could be anyone else’s kid. Dante and her _always_ used condoms. But, she and Vergil. One time. He even pulled out, but she knows well enough how shoddy that is for a birth control method.

She struggles with this knowledge for another long time. Probably hours. And in that time, she comes up with a plan.

The next time she sees Dante, she opts to go bareback. It’s easy to convince him, he’s probably been fantasising about it for ages. And a week later, she finds him on one of his rare sober days, positive pregnancy test in hand.

She’ll tell Vergil next.

\--

When Dante finds out Nero's pregnant, he's scared, to be honest. Dante doesn't even remember his dad, let alone know how to be one. But she tells him, and Dante doesn't think before he speaks - as per usual.

"Fuck yeah, let's be parents!"

Dante had smothered her in kisses, held her as tight as he could without hurting her, laughed and told her his signature 'How hard can it be?' 

Well. Really fucking hard, but that comes later. 

And while one twin is excited, the other is not so.

Vergil, unlike Dante, realizes the implications of his actions. Realizes that they are only children themselves; Vergil still has sports and school to keep up with, and so do Dante and Nero. They can't afford this, and he knows it.

"That child is _mine_ , Nero, you know it is. What have you told Dante?" his words are cold, hissed through clenched teeth and when she hesitates to answer, he snaps at her. "Tell me what you told him!"

\--

Nero’s scared. Really scared, to be perfectly honest. But with Dante supportive, there isn’t much that can bring her down. She lets herself get excited.

They’re going to be _parents_.

And then she tells Vergil.

She always knew he’d react strongly, always knew he’d be upset by how she’s worked things out. She knew he’d know it was really his child.

When he asks what she told Dante, she hesitates. When he snaps at her, she gets pissed. “I _told_ him that this is his child. I know you think you have some special place with me, Vergil. I know you think you get some say in this because, yes, technically this is your child. For all Dante knows, this is his baby. I’m sorry this is so fucked up, but this is _my_ decision.” All her anger is this hot, barely contained fury boiling just under some surface. She wants to explode, scream and throw things at him, but she won’t.

\--

Vergil cocks his head just barely, and narrows his eyes. 

He's challenging her.

"You're _sorry_?" Vergil whispers, raising an eyebrow. He straightens, turns, and almost laughs. "My apologies, Your Majesty, I had no idea. I had no idea that a whispered word would fix all of this, and I had no idea that you would grace me and my unborn child with _your_ apologies."

Vergil bows mockingly, keeps eye contact with Nero and sweeps his foot behind him. "You'll have to excuse my anger. I get _pissy_ when women try to keep my children from me."

\--

Nero hits him.

Curls her fingers into a fist and punches him right across the jaw. She’s not weak, knows how to throw a punch, that’ll bruise for sure. She can take his anger, can even understand it. But she _can not_ handle his mockery. It’s an insult to her, and insult to Dante, and insult to how she protects her family. Because that’s what they are now. A family.

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” she hisses lowly, barely a whisper, “Don’t you _dare_ mock me. I will protect _my family_ the way I see fit. You don’t have the right.”

Her fists are still clenched at her sides, ready to throw another swing if need be.

\--

Vergil knew that swing was coming, and he braced for it accordingly. Even still, it sends him staggering and he _knows_ that in a few hours, it's not gonna be pretty. He resets his jaw, and he looks at Nero.

He could kill her if he wanted to.

And he almost does want to. Put her through the same physical pain that he's being put through emotionally, watch her beg for her life while asking her,

How does it feel, Nero?

But he only keeps eye contact, and murmurs an, "Is that what you think?"

He stands straight, and resets his jaw once more. "Stupid girl," he says, "The way you see fit is foolish. You think I won't tell my child who their true father is? You think I'll keep the truth from them? You're only going to make this worse for yourself."

\--

She notices the way he looks at her. For the first time, it’s not with love, but with loathing. He looks like he’s going to kill her. She knows he could, wouldn’t even put it passed him. If she weren’t so _fucking_ pissed at him, she’d almost thank him. At least she wouldn’t have to deal with the fucking mess she’s made of her life.

But the baby.

A hand goes to her stomach, instinctively protecting the tiny cluster of cells inside her. “Vergil, I swear to god.” She stands there, shaking with her anger. She can’t believe him. “Legally, biologically, any way you spin it, this is Dante’s child. There is no way to prove your paternity. Just let us be.”

\--

Vergil clenches his jaw.

You _bitch_.

"Let us be?" Vergil repeats, "You sleep with me, lead me on, let me _believe_ you feel at least something for me, bear _my_ child," Vergil inhales, "And you want me to _leave you be_? I don't think that's in the cards anymore, my dear."

Vergil strides one step forward and leans in, once again cocking his head just slightly to the left, "You will not take this from me. And if you are truly so desperate to, you'll have to pry it from my cold, dead hands, quite literally."

\--

Nero watches him. Watches him lay out all of her transgressions. All of the things she feels terrible for. Stands there as he uses every single one of them against her. As he steps in and threatens her.

Then she turns and walks away. Stops at the doorway, turns her head back to him, “The sad thing is, Vergil, I could have loved you.”

And then she leaves.

\--

Vergil could've really hit her for that.

But he's not a brute, nor a wifebeater. He'd never lay his hands on Nero to harm her; No matter how much he might want to, he wouldn't. He loves her far, far too much to be the cause of her pain. 

So he opts for cussing instead.

"Oh, _fuck you_ , bitch!"

Vergil sits on the edge of his bed, and he buries his face in his hands. She won't ever tell Dante, and there really is no way to prove it - it's her word against his. And if Dante found out--

_Ah._

"I suppose there's more than one way to skin a cat."

\--

Nero hears him scream as she leaves. Shakes her head with an exasperated sigh. She can’t deal with this. She has so many things to worry about, she can’t focus on Vergil trying to dismantle her relationship and her family.

She takes a detour to Dante’s room and cracks open the door to look in. He’s still asleep. She smiles fondly at him, splayed out like he tends to do. He’s lovely.

After a few moments, she shuts the door gently and retreats to the kitchen to find something to eat and make herself some tea.

\--

Vergil spends days thinking of ways to approach Dante. 

It eventually boils down to the elder twin needing to wait up for him at the table, tea between his palms and elbows resting against the mahogany.

It's nearing midnight, and Dante is making a last check before he leaves for the night. 

"You still up, Verg?"

"Unfortunately."

Dante tosses him a lopsided grin. "Whatever," he says, "Just don't wait up. You'll be there all night."

"Before you go," Vergil begins, "I want to talk to you."

"Seriously?" Dante groans, "C'mon, man, I'm already going stir crazy."

"You don't even know what that means. Just sit for a second," Vergil sighs, taking a sip of his tea. "It will be worth waiting."

"Fine," Dante holds up his hands in defeat, and pulls up a chair. "Shoot, big bro."

"Do you realize she's been lying to you?"

Dante looks like he's been slapped and had his favorite snapback stepped on. "Who? Who's been lying?"

"Nero." 

"Don't you--"

"The child isn't yours. It's mine. I've been sleeping with her for weeks."

"That's _bullshit_ \--"

"I don't think it was you who left that bite mark on her thigh, was it?"

There's a long silence before hell absolutely breaks loose.

It goes without saying, Vergil loses the fight. Dante doesn't bother playing fair, and Vergil hardly fights him - merely lets him have his outburst. By the time they're done, there's blood on the floor, on the edges of the counters, and all over the both of them. 

Vergil lies half-consciously on the floor, head pounding and vision edged red, staring up at his younger brother. He makes sure to spit at him - splatters his cheek with saliva and blood, "She was never just yours, Dante."

" _Fuck you_ , Vergil."

Dante dials 911 on Vergil's phone, stands, and tosses it on his chest, and turns.

"Have a nice ambulance ride, motherfucker."

\--

Nero doesn’t expect a phone call from Vergil days after their heated argument. She especially doesn’t expect it to be a low, cracked voice ominously telling her “he knows.”

Her next move is to text Dante.

From him, she earns a barely decipherable message informing her that Vergil is in the hospital. She’s lucky he’s probably drunker than usual and doing who the fuck knows what or he might have fought with her.

So she goes to see Vergil.

Vergil probably timed that call to visiting hours. Told someone he’d be expecting visitors. It was far too easy for her to walk into the hospital, ask after him, and be led to his room. She hesitates outside the door, peering in through the glass. He’s beat to shit. Dante clearly took out a lot of anger on him. He’s hooked up to all the monitors and his face looks absolutely wrecked. What she can see of the rest of him, his arms mostly, are bruised and cut up as well.

She steels herself, then walks through the door.

The first thing she does is walk right up to his bedside, jaw set, and smack him upside the head, “What the _hell_ is wrong with you, you ass!”

\--

Vergil is in a concussed daze when Nero walks in.

He thinks her a nurse at first - nearly snaps at her to _go away_ and tell her that he's trying to rest. But when he hears her voice and gets _smacked_ , he knows just who it is.

Vergil audibly yelps, and brings an IV bound arm up to guard his head. "Watch _the stitches_ ," he hisses, eyes narrowed in annoyance. "Why are you here? You and I don't play nicely anymore."

\--

Nero shakes her head in disbelief, “I don’t know Vergil, weren’t _you_ the one that called me? And just because I’m fucking _livid_ at you doesn’t mean that I don’t _care_ on some level. You’re a goddamn idiot!”

She yanks over one of the chairs for visitors and sets it up next to the bed. “What _exactly_ did you tell him? Obviously, he reacted poorly.”

\--

Vergil sighs, leans back in his bed and shuts his eyes, eyebrows furrowing. "Keep your voice _down_ ," he seethes, exhaling. "I've got a concussion, he slammed me into the corner of the counter."

Nonetheless, he shifts to answer her. "I told him the truth," Vergil says, "That the baby is mine and that we've been sleeping together."

Vergil once again winces - he's got a migraine getting worse by the minute. "Did you bring painkillers? Alcohol will also do."

\--

Nero snorts when he says he’s got a concussion. Serves him right. He can suffer for being a _dumbass_ and going and telling Dante the _truth_. Of course he was going to beat the shit out of him. She’s still not looking forward to what he’s going to say to _her_.

It’s strangely satisfying, watching Vergil wince and struggle. He’s hurt her. Not that she hasn’t done the same to him, but he’s fucked with her _family_. He’s sabotaged her relationship. He’s in the _hospital_ because he wanted to get back at her.

“This was a stupid way to get back at me.” Her eyes narrow at him, “And you’re in a hospital, Vergil. Ask a nurse if you need more painkillers.”

\--

Bitch.

Vergil almost lets it slip, but he bites his tongue. "Go to hell," he mumbles, "You're not always right."

He stays laid back, silent. Until, of course, she mentions getting back. "Is that what you think that was? Getting back at you?" Vergil swallows, and laughs low and quiet in his throat. "Oh no. No, no, no, Nero. It wasn't about revenge or getting even. It was about me and my child. You think it's fair to play me like a card game, bear _my baby_ and then refuse to let me father it? If you do, I've got news. It's fucked up."

Vergil doesn't even give her a chance to form a rebuttal before he begins again. "If I wanted to get even," he swallows, head turning to look at her, "I would kill Dante, take my child, raise them, and bring you back someone that doesn't remember you in the slightest. That would be even. That would be about square."

\--

Nero simmers in loathing the whole time he talks to her. It’s patronising, threatening, and just plain awful. She crosses her arms and stares him down in challenge while he denies revenge without looking back at her.

But when he starts telling her what he would have done, this time looking at her, she can’t stop the tears from brimming in her eyes. She doesn’t want to cry. Doesn’t want him to have that satisfaction. Doesn’t want him to affect her like that. But he does, and she knows it won’t be long before the tears start spilling.

“You know what? Why am I even here? I don’t know what I expected.” She stands, pushing the chair back and letting it scrape along the floor loudly. “I don’t need to take your verbal abuse.”

\--

God. Damnit.

Vergil winces hearing the chair, but that doesn't stop him from still reaching to grasp at her wrist. 

"Just hold on, dove."

Vergil swallows, and takes in a breath. "I'm angry. And you are too, I understand that. I was wrong to ever let you in my bed, wrong to tempt you and even more wrong to let you tempt me. We were both very wrong; But you need to know that I have _loved you_ since I looked at you and everything you've done thus far has been a stab to what little heart I have left. And you've kept twisting that blade while I laid there and begged you to have mercy."

"But," he interrupts himself, "I know I was wrong, too. And I don't admit that often. I know you only want what's best for your family, what's safest and most stable."

"But you have to understand that I can't let my brother parent my baby, much like you couldn't let another woman mother it."

\--

When he calls her dove, Nero’s body reacts in such a confusing way. Roiling rage as well as something soft. Part of her melts from the sound.

What follows breaks her heart.

He’s right. Every single word of it is exactly right. She destroyed him.

But he destroyed her too.

They’re both at fault in this. Both of them are the reason that they’re sitting her in this hospital room. Her pregnant, him beat to _shit_ from antagonising his brother. Everything around her feels like it’s falling apart. She doesn’t even know if her relationship is going to be intact after this.

She sits back down.

“You’re right,” she whispers. “About everything. You’re exactly right. And I do understand. But you _can’t_ , Vergil. You have to understand that, too. _I love him_. And right now, I don’t even know if he’s going to want me around anymore.” Silent tears fall from her eyes, unbidden and unstoppable.

\--

Nero loves him and there's not a goddamn thing Vergil can do about it.

"I know you do," Vergil breathes, reaching a tethered hand out to wipe her tears, "I know you do."

He says silent for some time, just trying to dry her tears. He hushes her now and again, and doesn't say anything more than "I'm sorry I made you cry. I... Am not sure how to properly deal with my anger, to be truthful."

\--

Nero lets him wipe away her tears until they stop falling. Then she leans forward, lays her head down on the edge of his bed, “I’m just so _tired_ , Vergil. I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of juggling all of this. I’m tired of being angry. I’m tired of being sad. I’m just… tired.”

She thinks about the conversation she’s going to have to have with Dante. Soon. Probably when she gets back from the hospital, honestly. She just hopes he’s had time to cool down enough to be reasonable. She hopes he’s not entirely drunk.

Then, barely a whisper, “I’m scared.”

\--

Vergil cards his fingers through her hair, letting his fingers dance across the back of her neck lovingly. "I know, Nero. But I promise you, I'm not going to leave you or the baby behind. I love you both, very dearly."

Vergil keeps petting her hair and tries to comfort her, letting gentle words fall from his lips freely. After some time, he finally pauses, and just lets her feel how she's going to feel.

"You know," Vergil mumbles, "Dante does adore you. He's not going to leave you."

\--

Nero never doubted for a second that Vergil would stay. No matter what, he’d be there. She knows that. Not with how much he loves her. Not now that his child is involved.

She lays there a long time. Might even drift in and out of slumber some. But she has to go at some point. And Vergil’s quiet assurance both reminds her of that and serves to bolster her courage slightly. She has to go see Dante. They have a lot to talk about.

Her head rises slowly and she offers a small smile, “Thank you. I should go, though. I’ve got a difficult conversation I can’t run from for forever.”

\--

Vergil nods, and kisses her forehead. He lets her go, watches her leave with the grace of a clumsy, scared angel, and he really hopes it's only gonna be uphill from here.

Dante, however, is at home. 

The party was a blow. No hot girls, no bangin' music, no good weed. So he just opted to go home instead - clean up his asshole brother's blood off the floor and whatever. So now, he sits on the couch, ashtray beside him and a half-burned joint in his hand, just... Waiting for Nero to come home.

\--

It’s the first time Nero thinks she’s ever knocked on the front door to the house where Dante and Vergil live. She does it both out of respect and out of fear. Delaying the inevitable. She half hopes Dante won’t be there, won’t answer.

He does.

She walk in, sits down. Almost asks for him to pass the joint, but remembers her condition. Instead, she waits. She doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t have a clue what Dante is feeling or thinking. He just looks… contemplative. But that could always be the weed.

She wants nothing more than to lean into him and pretend like none of this ever happened, but she can’t. She has to do this.

\--

"So what?" Dante starts, ashing his joint and putting it out for the time being. "You gonna tell me what the fuck's going on or nah?"

Dante's not... Angry. He's not sure how he feels, aside from pissed at Vergil. He loves Nero, loves her to _pieces_ but... But nothing, he guesses. This just sucks dick.

"So... Is the baby Vergil's? Do you love him or something? I know I'm a shitty boyfriend and I got problems but shit, Nero, I can't--"

\--

“Can’t what?” she snaps without thinking. She recovers quickly, holds up a hand as she takes a deep breath. “Sorry.”

Another deep breath, a glance over to Dante. “Yes, it’s Vergil’s baby. No, I don’t love him. And Dante,” She looks him straight in the face, “You have problems, but you aren’t a shitty boyfriend. I love you. That hasn’t changed and it won’t. Ever.”

Again, she craves physical contact. A touch, a brush of fingers, just anything. But she doesn’t reach out. She doesn’t want to be rejected outright. It’s up to Dante to decide whether or not to accept her.

\--

"Jesus, baby, don't lie to me," Dante sighs, leaning back against the couch and kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. "You know I'm a shit boyfriend, I'm barely fuckin' around."

Dante looks over to her, and he kind of just stares. "So... How do you feel about him then? You wanna stay with him or whatever?"

\--

The fact that he has to ask breaks her heart. “Dante. I love _you_. I want to be with _you_. That’s why this is such a huge mess. It’s why I lied.”

She leans forward, elbows on her knees and head in her hands. “I don’t love him. But I do care about him.” Then, nearly an afterthought, “He’s in love with me.”

A long moment passes before she starts again, “I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry about all of this. I never- I was _hurt_ , Dante. You were gone and I was _hurt_.”

\--

Dante sighs, pulls her against his chest and just holds her. "I know. And that was my fuck up."

Dante looks down at her, still curious. "...I mean, he's the kid's dad. I don't want 'em growing up in some weird, fucked up thing where it's not really sure who's dad and who's not. So, like... I mean... You could just stick with Vergil. I'll be a side ho."

\--

Nero absolutely melts when he pulls her into him. It’s returning home. Familiar and safe and so _Dante_.

She recoils slightly at his suggestion. Enough to look at him with wide eyes. “I’m not doing that to you. You aren’t a ‘side ho’ to me, Dante. I _love_ you. How many times do I need to tell you that before it makes it through that thick skull of yours?”

With a sigh, she melts back into him. But her brain keeps working. Dante’s suggestion may have been outlandish, but maybe it’s come from a good place. A flash of brilliance even. Maybe there’s something to it. “But,” she starts, “maybe you’ve got something there. If you’re alright with it… You can be equals.”

She shifts in Dante’s hold. “I love you. I think I could love him. There’s no side anything, everyone is equal. And everyone gets what they want.” Her head turns up so she can look at him, “Right?”

\--

Dante thinks on that. Sure, that'd be fucking weird at first, especially considering he and Vergil have never been the kind to share what they love. But if it involves Nero and her happiness as well as that kid's stability, then...

"I guess we could give it a shot," Dante shrugs, "Make it all experimental and shit. But I swear to god I am not about to have a threesome with my fuckin' brother."

\--

Nero laughs. It feels almost stale and foreign in her throat. But it feels good. It’s been awhile since she could laugh. “I couldn’t even imagine that, to be perfectly honest. You’d probably just compete the whole time, and no one wants that.”

She curls up tighter against him, “Thank you, Dante,” she whispers into his neck. There is every chance this whole thing won’t work. Every chance it will create a constant tension between the twins. But there’s just as much chance it could solve everything. It’s basically what’s been happening for weeks, except everyone knows and everyone consents. “We should go see him.”

\--

"Go see him?" Dante repeats, "I'd rather chew and swallow this joint. 'M still pissed off at him."

He looks to Nero, though, and hugs her a little tighter. "You can, though. If he lays his eyes on me, Verg is gonna wanna get even, concussion or nah. He'll rip the IV's out of his arms if it means whopping my ass."

\--

Nero slaps Dante’s arm playfully, but he’s probably right. Vergil had threatened to kill Dante. It had been hypothetical, but the sentiment is probably still there. Plus, Vergil will probably take this whole arrangement better from her anyway.

She she stays in Dante’s arms a bit longer, then kisses him goodbye. Promises to be back soon. This whole thing may ease tensions between the three of them (or not), but it hasn’t magically fixed Dante’s issues. They’re still there, and Nero worries about them.

Still, she leaves him. Goes right back to the hospital. This time, she doesn’t need an escort. This time she doesn’t hesitate outside his door. This time she smiles when she comes in.

This time she goes right up to him and kisses him.

\--

Vergil had been, once again, half out of it when Nero came in. This time, though, it's different. Much different.

Instead of a whack, he gets a kiss.

Which he certainly doesn't expect. And to be honest, he's angry at first. Vergil feels like he's being _played_ with like a cheap child's toy, feels like this is just a game for her and Dante. 

But at the same time, the only woman he's ever loved kissed him first, unsolicited. 

"Don't _play_ with me, Nero--"

\--

Nero isn’t surprised his first instinct is to react poorly. To think she’s toying with him. Doesn’t make it hurt any less, but she’s not surprised. So she’s pulls back some, still leaning against his mattress but not touching him. “I’m not. I promise you, I’m not. Just… listen to me for a sec, ok?”

“I talked to Dante. And we came up with an idea that could solve things. If you’re on board. I’ll date both of you. No more sneaking around, no more lying, everybody knows what’s going on. Everybody gets what they want. It does mean you and Dante have to share something, and play nice about me. And Dante has already laid down an ‘absolutely no threesomes’ rule.”

She pauses and reaches for his hand to hold in both of hers. “You both give me something different. You both _are_ different. And I care deeply about both of you. I wasn’t lying when I said I could love you, and now I have the chance to find out. All I need is your ok.”

\--

Vergil stares at her for the longest time, and he nearly starts shaking. He's been waiting so long, so long to hear Nero say that to him and now she's--

"Of course."

It's a no brainer. Vergil would be an idiot to say no, would be an idiot to deny her and to deny _himself_. "I-- Nero..."

\--

Nero heaves a big sigh of relief and a smile stretches across her face when he responds. She’s so _happy_. Something is finally working out. Something is finally going _right_.

She starts laughing.

It starts as little more than a spasm of her diaphragm and build in a matter of moments until it’s full out laughter, complete with tears at the corners of her eyes. She clutches at her stomach and ends up with her head on the mattress to try to stifle the sound of it. It takes her several minutes to calm herself down. She’s just so happy, so _mirthful_.

When she stops laughing, abs a little sore and big smile on her face, she kisses him again, “I’m so glad.”

\--

The sudden laughter takes Vergil entirely by surprise; Even startles him. He's in a hospital bed beat to shit, and personally, he doesn't believe there's anything funny about this clusterfuck. But he lets her laugh.

It's beautiful.

Vergil tries to recall something, anything from his psychology textbooks, almost afraid she's having some kind of fit. But with the raging headache and inability to take his _concern_ off Nero, it does no good. "Are you--?"

He's getting kissed again, and he doesn't mind.

In fact, he tries to kiss her back, only to have her pull away. "Will you be sleeping at home, or here?"

\--

The question surprises her. She hadn’t thought about it. Hadn’t thought she’d be allowed to spend the night at the hospital. Aren’t there rules against that?

“I- If they’ll let me, I’ll stay. I’ll just let Dante know.” She takes out her phone to compose a text, then looks back to Vergil, “Are you too hurt for me to get up there with you?”

When he shakes his head, she climbs up and curls herself into him, one hand on her stomach. Happy and at peace.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Cпасибо: Thank you  
> Пожалуйста: You're welcome
> 
> I have a [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/playingchello).


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